The Most Dangerous Things
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: In which Orihime runs and Ichigo chases.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Most Dangerous Things

Warning: Non-canon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Authorial Notice:

COVER ART is a piece I commissioned from the lovely Norita-chan on dA. The original can be found here - browse. deviantart ?qh=§ion=&global=1&q=child-of-the-ashes#/d50uj8b (remove spaces)

This is not what I'm supposed to be working on, but I couldn't help it :) Rating will go up.

()()()

Chapter One

Ichigo glared at the road in front of him, slamming the gearshift into place before hitting the accelerator. The car leapt forward, pressing him back into the seat with a satisfying purr. Faster. Fifty-five. Sixty-five. He hit the brakes, taking a corner quicker than could safely be considered smart, but he was way past stupid or smart.

_Just what the hell was she thinking?_

Seven years. Seven years he had known her, but _never_ had he seen this coming. Not when everyone else in high school had started dating. Not when they got to college and he had started dating. Not even when it seemed like everyone around them was jumping each other like rabbits.

She had just seemed so _above_ that, above all the stupid shit everyone else was doing. Orihime wasn't the kind of girl that slept with any guy that looked her way. She just wasn't. And _never once_ had it occurred to him that she might want to be.

That was something he was still trying to wrap his head around. So much so, that when Tatsuki had dropped that Inoue had gone looking for a summer fling, it hadn't really registered. He had just stared at her, trying to piece together words and thoughts that didn't seem to fit. Then she had rolled her eyes and told him what was going on.

That was when he had started to get angry.

So what if they were about to graduate and she was still a virgin. It was _Inoue_. And even if it had surprised him to know that she wasn't happy about it, it hadn't shocked him to find out that she was. They all looked out for her, made certain that anyone glancing her way knew she wasn't that kind of girl.

But now, she seemed to think she was ready to get her feet wet in that department. _With another guy…_

Back teeth grinding and knuckles white on the steering wheel, he almost groaned in relief when the sign for the beach turnoff came into view, but that didn't slow him down.

The gate attendant stumbled back as his car whipped through. Let him call the police, they could have his body if they wanted it. He wasn't stopping.

Ichigo shoved a hand through his hair, counting numbers as they flashed by until he spotted the one he wanted. The car slid into the driveway, skidding on the pea gravel of the Arisawa's beach house. He didn't remember leaving the car, but suddenly it was behind him, quickly fading into the background.

He paused for a split second, narrowing his eyes before he found what he was looking for and took off again. He stalked across the grass, casting a glance at the beach house before dismissing it. She wasn't there.

_Just what the hell was she thinking?_

And here of all places. It was only a few miles outside Karakura. Didn't she know that people talked? Did she want to ruin her reputation? But the answer to that was obvious.

Yes, she most definitely did.

His jaw ticked and he tried to control his temper as he dodged through a group of giggling high school girls. The small shops that littered this part of the front were packed out, people everywhere, but he knew exactly what he was looking for. _Who_ he was looking for.

It was then, coming around the corner of the boathouse that he saw her and jerked to a stop.

The heat flowing under his skin doubled as his eyes flicked over her, a torrent of adrenaline lashing into his system, practically causing his blood to buzz in his veins.

He cursed between his teeth.

Smooth skin, lithe muscle, curves barely covered by that thing that was probably supposed to pass as a bathing suit. She might as well have been naked.

Auburn hair cascaded in long loose curls down her back and shoulders; the top of her white two-piece stretched tight, revealing sleek, fluid lines slipping down a toned stomach and thighs, bare except for the tie at her hip, and then nothing but soft skin until her painted toes dug into the sand under her feet.

Fuck. White. At the beach. Where she would be wet. Was she trying to get raped?

His heart pounded in his temples, a steady tick, counting down the seconds until he lost it. He had never seen her put her body on display.

But now, she was.

_For someone else—_

He cut the thought off, smashing it down with his temper until he could think straight again.

And apparently, she was far better at attracting attention than she had thought. Her embarrassment was obvious as she tried to extricate herself as delicately as possible.

She was surrounded.

He took that in with calm, cold clarity, counting heads as the anger twisted, tightened into rage so deep he could hardly feel it any longer; which was strange, because that seemed to be the moment she did.

Orihime's confused grey eyes locked with his from across the beach and she jumped, shocked out of whatever she had been saying. Her lips parted, dragging in a startled breath until she shook herself, turning to look at the guy that was trying to reclaim her attention.

He scanned the eager group around her, making notes on who would be a problem and who wouldn't. There were five of them. Didn't matter. He had taken worse odds.

Still, he waited, let her flounder and try excuse herself only to be pulled back into conversation. Her gaze kept darting back to him and he was more than a little gratified to see it filled with trepidation.

The thought of some random guy putting his hands on her made him itch to see blood. It had been enough to push him over edge, to take off after her. He'd lock her up if he needed to, anything until she saw sense.

She wouldn't like it, but he wasn't asking permission.

()()()

Orihime tried not to look. She tried not to feel Ichigo watching her.

What was he doing here? The entire point of coming to the Arisawa's beach house was to get as far away from him as possible. Now, he was storming across the sand with all the ominous, dark energy of an impending tsunami.

How did he even know where to find her?

A trembling set into her bones, a chill that skittered down her arms, causing the fine hairs there to stand on end. There was no way he would do anything here, right? Not when she was surrounded by witnesses.

That did nothing to make her feel better.

She stuttered out a response to the latest question, trying to keep her eyes trained on who was speaking to her instead of flying back to the angry death god who was radiating so much violent energy that Orihime was surprised the ground wasn't shaking as he moved forward.

Ichigo wasn't stopping and wasn't slowing down, and she was trying _so hard_ not to look. Then he was there beside her, stepping into her personal space, closer than anyone else had dared and suddenly, she couldn't have met his eyes for anything.

Orihime hadn't felt underdressed before that moment, hadn't been embarrassed, but with his eyes on her, she couldn't stop her arms crossing over her chest, couldn't stop the nervous, fidgeting dance her legs seemed to be performing.

"We need to talk."

His voice was clipped and flat. Orihime could feel it slip over her shoulders, sliding down her bare spine like an ice-cold feather. She shivered.

Kurosaki-kun was angry.

He ignored the other men completely, something which seemed to rankle a few of them the wrong way. The smarter three faded into the background, disappearing with a clear idea of the direction things were headed.

"K-Kurosaki-kun…" She flashed him her brightest smile without actually meeting his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, pal—"

Orihime panicked as the hand entered her field of vision, headed straight for Ichigo's shoulder. She grabbed it, stopping its journey without thinking, jumping at the lash of riatsu when her hand closed around his. She dropped it as if it had shocked her.

"Ah! I think that I would like to talk to him. Please, excuse us!"

The man that had introduced himself as Kiyoshi was looking pale and green tinged, slouching like he wanted to throw up. The one that had made a grab for Ichigo, Isamu-kun, she thought, seemed to have a bit more spiritual endurance. Still, he looked slightly confused, a stunned expression clouding his face. She smiled wider, waving her arms until, at last, they moved away.

"Care to tell me what the hell it is you think you're doing?" Ichigo hissed over her shoulder.

Orihime swallowed and turned.

How much did he suspect?

"I was making friends."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I saw."

Ichigo tore his eyes off her body, looking over her head, down the beach, anywhere but at her. Damn. She had no idea that he could clearly see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric. And knowing she wanted sex was putting all sorts of impure thoughts in his head.

Desire and anger. A dangerous combination.

She fidgeted in front of him and Ichigo saw a male head turn, crafty eyes skimming her form. He frowned, shifting in time to catch another man, older this time.

He spat another vicious curse before catching her upper arms, pulling Orihime flush against him.

It was only meant to be a possessive gesture, an arm around the shoulders, a hand on the waist. Instead, he found himself kissing her.

There wasn't any thought of it before hand, but once it was happening he couldn't seem to stop. She went rigid, as surprised as he was, tensing into tight little knots before her startled squeak turned into something deeper, more feminine as her muscles went soft under his hands.

Orihime's half-whimpered sigh parted her lips, surrendering, yielding beautifully, and he pressed forward, sweeping into her mouth, feeling the brush of her soft tongue. It was like being shot with a bolt of lightning. He groaned against her mouth, shocked at the intensity of it. Which was stupid, because he should have _known_ that kissing Orihime wouldn't be like kissing any other girl. She had _never_ been like any other girl.

Damn. He had to get away from her. This was fucking dangerous to his sanity.

He kept his arms locked, supporting her weight and making sure her mouth stayed fused with his.

Ichigo had never been big on public affection, but for a moment, he completely forgot where he was, forgot why he had started this in the first place. Heat hit him hard, low in the pit of his stomach, tightening his gut, before pouring south. Hunger, savage and primal, fought for control as his hands tangled into her hair.

He could feel his body throbbing, and fuck, it was just a kiss. But he had wondered, he had always wondered.

He needed to let go.

Ichigo struggled to remind himself that they were still on the beach, still surrounded by people on all sides. He pulled back, fighting to catch his breath, watching Orihime's dazed eyes flutter up to his. They were so bright that he could see himself in them.

This time when he looked out, men glanced away, avoiding his gaze.

He had made his point. She wasn't on the market.

()()()

**TBC.**

**Ahh! I'm pretty sure I butchered Ichigo's character in this, but it was sure fun to write!**

**Not sure when I'll update this. Just had to get this first scene out of my head, so I could concentrate on other things :) But there is an actual story to this somewhere up there… Don't you hate it when that happens?**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Most Dangerous Things

Authorial Notice:

Merry Christmas everyone! This is a little early for a present, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Ahhh! And a special thanks to XtremeGal who kicked my butt and got me in gear- in the nicest possible way, of course :)

()()()

Chapter Two

Orihime saw stars.

She didn't know what had happened, wasn't sure when the kiss had started or ended, but she was seeing stars as white flashes of light across the field of her vision.

_He kissed me…_

And she couldn't feel her legs. Which didn't actually seem to be a problem, because sometime during her daze, Orihime had been lifted off her feet and hauled up over a hard shoulder.

She flailed, squeaking her protest as a warm hand tightened around her legs, holding her firmly in place.

Orihime gasped, torn between gripping the back of Ichigo's shirt and wanting to cover her face in mortification. People were looking! And her tail-end was sticking up in the air, worse, because all Ichigo would have to do to come face to face with it was turn his head the wrong direction.

And then they were marching across the beach, his single-minded determination evident in every step.

The sand began to fade into the background along with all its staring faces. They traveled past the shops and across the lawn of the beach house, well away from the people and crowds and anyone who could possibly rescue her.

Ichigo's shiny black sports car was parked in the drive, and she threw it a sullen look.

_That explains how he got here so quickly._

She blinked as they walked past it.

"W-Wait! Where are we going…? Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime swallowed, unable to make out what he was thinking from the back of his head, but it was clear what kind of mood he was in from all the tension she could still feel pulsing through the hard, tightly coiled muscles beneath her.

He climbed the stairs. One at a time, both too fast and torturously slow, and by the time they reached the top and Ichigo had kicked aside the mat to get the key, she was shaking.

Striding through the door, he finally released her, dropping Orihime onto her own two feet before leveling a glare at her.

He really was mad.

She knew when she first made the decision to come that he wouldn't like it. That's why she didn't tell him, but she hadn't expected this kind of reaction.

Caught in his stare, Orihime tried to make herself as small as possible. Her entire body hummed with emotions she hadn't felt, hadn't had to deal with in so long, she had thought they had been locked away for good. Now, they were flooding back into her system, waves of tiny bittersweet pinpricks, threatening to turn her back into that quivering, stammering, teenage girl she had been in high school.

Why had he kissed her? To warn off those guys? To protect her virtue?

Why?

With that one thoughtless gesture, he was making her doubt herself.

It wasn't fair. She had never once tried to tell him who he could date. So, he really shouldn't have any say in what _she_ did.

Except, Ichigo didn't work that way.

Why was it that her favorite quality about him, also had to be the one that frustrated her so much?

She didn't want to be saved. She didn't want to be rescued or protected. She had come for this, and if he had some idea about stopping her or keeping her _pure_, Orihime was just going to have to find a way to help him rethink that.

It had been a long time since she had followed him around like a lost puppy, hoping to be handed out scraps of his time. And as soon as she had stopped, Ichigo seemed to notice she wasn't there and had quickly bridged the gap. They had even managed to build a truly meaningful friendship.

So she didn't understand why he was acting like this.

Orihime frowned, returning his fierce glare with an annoyed look of her own. He'd thrown her with that kiss, but she was firmly on her feet and thinking clearly now. And she had no intention of letting him plow her over like a freight train.

She squared her shoulders, tilting her head back to look him in the eye and immediately began rethinking her plan.

Wisps of black drifted along the edges of his eyes, faint, but definitely there.

Her muscles tensed and it took all her courage not to run, not to flee or bolt like a frightened baby deer in the face of a hungry tiger. She took a step back, but he was already on her, his mouth hard and searing against her own.

Ichigo kissed her again and somewhere in his mind, somewhere deep, where he was still thinking logically, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to write this one off as a poorly handled impulse. _Shit_. He needed to stop. He needed to get control. He needed to keep kissing her until he had explored every curve and expanse of smooth skin on her delectable body.

Damn, she was addictive.

Her breasts, move bare than not, pressed into the unyielding wall of his chest, rubbing against him and creating swells of maddening friction. He wanted to taste them, to drag his tongue over hardened, pink nipples until she was panting and writhing. He wanted to run his lips over the soft skin of her inner thighs. Wanted to feel her nails digging into his back as he pressed into her tender, flawless body.

His fingers brushed the tie at her back and it was all he could do not to make the slight effort it would take to pull it free.

With gritted teeth and great effort on his part, Ichigo pulled back, fighting to catch his breath and rein in his sordid thoughts.

He let her go, but not far.

She stared at him.

"Why…?" She licked her lips and he almost didn't hear the rest of her words. "Kurosaki-kun, why did you bring me here?"

Ichigo shifted at the use of his surname, something she only regressed to when she was nervous or flustered. He didn't know what he'd been thinking. Just that he needed to get her off that beach and away from so many perverted eyes.

The only problem was that his half-baked plan to ward off other men, had backfired so _badly_ that for a second, he had actually started to agree with the little voice in the back of his head, the one telling him to toss her onto the sand and finish what he'd started.

Ichigo shoved a hand into his hair and clenched the other one, just to give them something to do. "We need to talk."

Orihime fidgeted, crossing her arms under her chest, unintentionally pushing it up and stretching the thin white fabric tighter.

God, he was losing it. She was going to fucking kill him.

She swallowed, glancing away so that she didn't have to meet his eyes. "About what?"

He wasn't fooled for a second. Something he'd learned over the years was that Inoue could hide behind feigned ignorance better than anyone else he had ever met. But he wasn't going to let her get away with it this time.

He grit his teeth. "I know why you're here."

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Don't play stupid with me, Orihime. You came to get laid."

She gaped at him. "W-what…? That's not—"

"Don't you even care about your reputation?" He wanted to take it back as soon as the words left his mouth.

There was no way to mistaking the hurt in her eyes. Or the flash of irritation.

"Your reputation's never hurt you."

It was like a kick in the gut, more, because he knew it was justified.

"Look, it's… You deserve better."

"And you don't?"

Ichigo shoved a hand through careless orange spikes. This wasn't going right. He hadn't exactly planned on having to defend _himself_.

How was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to say that the thought of her being touched by someone else made him want to tear out his hair? That thinking about her crawling under some…_ guy_ made him itch to see blood?

She dropped her eyes to the floor, clasping her arms around her tighter. "I don't know where this is coming from so suddenly."

It took him a second to realize that he was staring at her.

Suddenly? Is that what she thought?

His mind spun with the weight of how cruel life could be.

She really had no concept of the extremes a man would go to when the woman he wanted was perpetually just outside of his reach.

It wasn't sudden.

He had been quietly nursing a crush on Inoue ever since they entered high school, and it had only grown from there. Always finding excuses to keep an eye on her, craving her presence, her attention.

He told himself it was enough just to be close to her, that it was better to be friends than nothing at all, but that was a lie. He had found out the hard way.

Orihime shivered, quickly growing cold in the house's air conditioning. "Why are you here?"

"I told you. If you want sex that bad, you sure as hell aren't going to get it from some faceless bastard that won't give a damn if he hurts you."

Her shoulders stiffened and he wondered if that had even occurred to her.

Ichigo almost groaned, resisting the urge to start yelling again.

His heart pounded in his ears as he waited, watching her worry her bottom lip. Never had they fought or been at odds before. It was taking more out of him than he had expected, and damn it, she looked like she was going to cry.

"I-I understand…"

Sighing, he stepped forward only to have her pull away. Her eyes were shining and her face was flushed. And those _were_ tears.

"You don't want me to date."

He blinked. "That's not—"

"How many dates have I had since we've been in college?"

"W-what?"

"Lots of people have asked. Then they back out or don't show. At first, I thought it was Tatsuki, but that's not true. You've been having everyone chase them away, and now, I need your permission to… to do other things."

Ichigo decided he was in shock. He hadn't wanted her excluded, just protected.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

His head jerked up at the raw pain in her voice.

This was the time to say something normal, something _not_ crazy.

_Don't say something crazy…_

"Because, damn it. I want you."

There, that was perfectly reasonable.

Orihime's eyes widened. She was stunned. Ichigo could see it written all over her. The idea of him wanting her in that way had never even crossed her mind.

What the hell? Didn't she even think of him as a man?

The wall clocked ticked into the silence.

"I think I need to sit down."

Her legs shook for a second before she slid straight into the floor.

"Hey!"

Ichigo caught Orihime at the last second, moving her to the overstuffed sofa before dropping beside her.

He glanced at her before looking away again, and let out his breath. "Would it really be so bad?"

She turned, meeting his eyes, and for a second she actually seemed to consider it.

"O-okay."

Ichigo stared.

"Is that…? Does that mean you want to?"

She nodded, lips tilting in a shaky smile, and his mouth went dry.

A/N

TBC

I hope it was worth the wait. I know several of you wanted Orihime to give him a piece of her mind for being such a clueless jerk and I swear I tried, but Orihime can be really hard to make angry.

Anyway, the next chapter will, I think, be quite a bit longer. And yes, the rating will jump. But before that, I must, _must_, get Courting Darkness updated. *looks warily over her shoulder*

Thanks for reading, and have a happy holiday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I haven't done one of these in a while, but I own nothing. **

Chapter Three

Ichigo's heart pounded overly loud in his ears. His first instinct was to pounce her. Damn, he shouldn't have put her on the couch. It was almost an irresistible temptation.

But he couldn't.

She wasn't ready. Orihime's nervous hands and the way she wasn't quite meeting his eyes said everything he had to know. She still needed time to process what they were going to do. And that was torture, because he'd been ready ever since she'd left.

No, longer than that. Hell, it felt like he had been ready for her forever.

But he didn't want to panic her, didn't want her to come to her senses and push him away. He wanted to seduce her _gently_, the way she deserved. At least, that was how he intended it to start anyway, if they ended up breaking furniture and alarming the neighbors before the weekend was—

Ichigo cut the thought off before he started getting visuals. This was already hard enough. He didn't need more distractions, more fuel for his already overheated body.

Still, her face was flushed, chest rising and falling in gentle waves, the tiny hairs on the smooth skin of her arms standing. Tendrils of red hair framed her face, softening already angelic features. She watched him, bright eyes a mixture of curiosity and badly veiled nerves.

He swallowed as her pink tongue darted out to wet parted lips.

Ichigo was suddenly glad he had spent years ruthlessly training his body to obey every command, because that was the only thing that kept it from acting outside of his control.

Fuck. He wanted her so bad his skin burned.

Then her lashes dropped, shielding her gaze.

"Why, me, Ichigo? You could have anyone you want." She hugged herself. "You _have_ anyone you want."

He closed his eyes, because that _hurt_.

How could he make her understand? It was a unique form of hell loving her, watching from afar and never being allowed to touch. It was worse trying to fill that gap with someone else, but he hadn't discovered that until it was too late.

Ichigo stood, fingers tugging at his hair. He didn't want this to be a battle. Not with her.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

She looked up, seeming small and vulnerable, words just as quiet as his. "That's why I'm here."

Ichigo's lungs filled with fresh pain.

There was no way he was going to mess this up. God, he wished he didn't suck so badly with words.

Gently, he reached down and tangled his fingers into the long strands of her hair and pulled Orihime into his chest. She stumbled, drawing a startled breath before relaxing into him. The intimacy of talking with her like this, touching her like this, up until now it had never been anything more than a dream. The reality was so much brighter, so much sharper.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her, tender and deliberate, as softly as he knew how. She was like liquid sweetness, warm and enticing, delicate mouth yielding under his. Ichigo's free hand skimmed up her arm as his lips brushed hers and she shivered. He was careful with her, just savoring the sensations of her mouth being under his, allowing the heat to build slowly between them.

He stroked his tongue over her bottom lip, methodically unhurried, groaning at the taste of her. There wasn't anything like it, and imagination had failed utterly to capture the depth of craving she induced.

Orihime gasped and her small hands shook as they clung to the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric and unconsciously tugging him closer. Heat hit him like a wave and he couldn't stop from doing it again, pressing inside. The feel of her nearly devastated him all over again and his heart tripped so hard he wondered if she could feel it too.

He fought hard not to control the kiss, just to let her explore, guiding her gently, tilting his head so that their lips could meet fully and urging her tongue into his mouth by teasing it with his own. She moved with a shy desire that made him throb, growing harder and hotter until he hurt with the need for release.

She was so soft, her body pliable under his hands, and everywhere he touched, Ichigo felt silky skin. He wanted to tease her, drag out the hunger, and maybe lose her top, but she was vulnerable now, doing things she'd never done before and he needed to be careful. He didn't want to frighten her away.

His hands trailed, fingertips grazing down to tease circles on her lower back before he pushed his palms flat, pressing her forward with a groan. She gasped, clearly feeling the hardness of his erection, and he cursed himself, tearing his mouth off hers.

Orihime shivered, surprise lighting her eyes as she blinked up at him and with a type of incredible feminine torture, she licked her lips.

It was his turn to shudder, the force of his own desire nearly leveling him. She couldn't really still be _that_ naïve... But she was, he knew it and the thought that he was giving Orihime her first real kiss propelled hot blood straight to his groin.

His hands tightened and she jumped again, even as another wave of fierce sensation shot through him, causing him to growl through his teeth. Fuck. This was torture. Delicious, sweet torture and he wanted her as desperate and worked up about it as he was.

Ichigo kissed her again, consuming her mouth, her tongue, her scent. He was ravenous, starving for her. The feel of her body smashed against his, made him groan and he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth.

Nails scratched along the tight muscles of his stomach and he hissed, sliding hands up her spine and fisting her hair, bowing her back so that he could taste her throat. Surprise and innocent desire flashed over her face, and he bit more aggressively than he meant, hearing her sharp moan before he sucked hard. A strangled cry burst from her lips and he shifted, sucking over again until he left a trail of marks along her neck and she panted, made incoherent sounds, arching against him mindlessly.

Ichigo dropped a hand to the fleshy curve of her thigh and tugged her leg up around his waist, bringing her into flush contact with his agonizingly hard erection, growling at the way she stretched on tiptoes to get better contact. His hand slipped down her ribs, brushing the tender side of her breast like a warning before sliding around to drag a thumb over a hardened nipple, testing the firm weight in his palm.

Releasing her throat, he leaned back to examine the spark of hunger lighting her features, caused by their heated play.

Dazed, silver, heavy-lidded eyes flickered open, red lips parted and swollen. Her breath came in quick pants, quick _excited_ pants, pushing her breast up into his hand, drawing his attention back to the hardened, rose-colored epicenter.

"I… Ichigo, I hurt."

He shuddered, swallowing a curse.

Why hadn't he noticed how starved for touch she was? If he had, he wouldn't have kept teasing her that way. She needed relief. He did too, but if he touched her, it would be a pathetically quick effort on his part.

God, that was _not_ the way he wanted her to remember her first time.

He looped an arm around her waist, backing her down onto the couch. She froze. Her eyes were wide as he pushed her to lay flat, and he knew what she was expecting, but that wasn't what he had in mind.

He tugged her hips forward, and she squeaked, mouth falling open as he gently tugged the ties of her suit free. Fuck, his hands were shaking and he cursed his goddam _tight_ pants.

Then he blinked, swallowed as his mouth went dry.

She was smooth, skin luminous, the folds of her sex delicate and glistening, and set just above was a small patch of soft auburn hair, trimmed into a heart.

He looked up, stunned, meeting Orihime's eyes.

She flushed and he felt a grin curve his lips, loving the heat in her cheeks and the way she was embarrassed at being found out.

He pulled the white fabric away and caught her thighs when they tried to close.

"I-Ichigo?"

Her voice trembled and that made his chest ache with tenderness.

"Relax. I won't hurt you, Orihime. I promise."

She swallowed, nodding as she lay back.

Ichigo took a deep breath, trying to calm down and to just _please not fuck this up._

He was careful, stroking the smooth skin on the inside of her legs until he felt them loosen up. Leaning forward, he kissed her with deliberate passion, heating her body and chasing away the last of her fear. Easing her thighs apart, he leaned down, watched her face as he ran his tongue through her folds and over the tiny knot of nerves at the top.

She cried out, eyes flying open and instantly struggling to get away. It only took one hand on her stomach to hold her and he marveled at how fragile she was, how breakable, quieting her with gentle words. He didn't want to give her time to overthink. He lowered again and this time ran his tongue the full length of her, with steady pressure, making her whimper.

She was sweet and hot, and he closed his eyes and growled at the taste of her on his tongue, still tracing the soft skin of her stomach and feeling himself harden to the point of pain.

Orihime gasped, hands scrambling over the couch, searching for something to hold onto.

He… He was… He couldn't do that! His mouth was on the most intimate place it could be and he swept over it, sampling her as if she were something to eat and the feelings it caused were threatening to overpower her.

His mouth was hot and wet, tongue gliding firmly in long strokes and she jerked as it brushed that incredibly sensitive spot with every undulation. Sensations piled into her belly, a twisting fire that echoed in every nerve ending. Her blood raced around in her veins, and all she could do was cry out against the involuntary pleasure.

It wasn't anything like what she thought. The intense storm of emotion that poured over her was a flood of fire and electricity, zipping down her spine and racing back up her limbs until her body pulsed with every sweep, with every passing he made over _that_ place.

He set a rhythm, steady and maddening, pushing her toward some point that she desperately wanted to go, but was afraid of all the same, and he licked and licked and licked until she was trembling uncontrollably, fighting for air, fighting for sanity. She could hear her own frantic moans, but was helpless to do anything but feel him stroking over her.

His tongue dipped inside her and she arched with a cry, seared from the inside out, so lost that she could do nothing more than writhe beneath it, keening, whimpering.

Ichigo groaned and she felt it rumble through her like thunder. She twisted with such overwhelming shockwaves of pleasure that she sobbed, tremors wracking her body. Calloused hands gripped her hips, holding her in place while he flicked his tongue and sucked her into his mouth, and she broke.

Orihime's spine curved back, arching as if she were in pain while she gasped and cried out, keening with no sense of anything but surge after surge of absolute _feeling_. Her hands threaded into his hair, nails scraping his scalp, keeping him where she needed him, whimpering until the euphoria ebbed. He stayed between her thighs, still running lazy stokes with his tongue, only stopping when her body finally went limp.

Blinking suddenly heavy lids, Orihime felt the couch shift and then he caught her mouth, kissing her with so much hunger she felt dizzy all over again. He growled, trailing his teeth over her neck and looping an arm around her waist.

"Can you move?"

"Y-yes, why?"

"Just wondering if I did it right."

Her response was little more than a breathless squeak as her mind cleared, throwing her headfirst back into reality. They had just— He had—

"Nhn!"

Orihime flung herself up, and Ichigo jerked back to avoid her head, overbalancing and falling straight over the edge of the couch.

Her suit! She was half-naked! He could see things!

The bottom half of her white two-piece lay haphazardly on the arm of the sofa, almost as if he had just tossed it over his shoulder. She snatched it up, struggling to get it tied.

"_Shit_…"

Orihime looked down to see Ichigo sprawled in the floor. Her cheeks heated and she jumped up, not sure what to do, but feeling the need to move. She wrung her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

She should probably apologize, but that would mean looking at him and—

"Orihime, _breathe_."

The air rushed out of her lungs and she pulled in another not quite steady breath as he shook his head and smiled.

"You could have just said no."

"I-I…No, it—I mean, _yes_… uh, it was very… but I…I just— I need clothing!"

Ichigo's mouth dropped as she fled from his sight and the bedroom door slammed shut.

_Clothing? _

He was pretty sure that Orihime _without_ clothing was by far the better alternative. In fact, there probably wasn't anything that wouldn't be improved if she wasn't wearing clothes. Cooking, studying, sleeping… Not that that's what he had in mind at the moment. Maybe after he had made love to her half a dozen times.

Ichigo sighed and pushed himself up, just contemplating going after her as the door opened and she emerged fully clothed, shirt buttoned all the way up her neck, floor length skirt and long sleeves. He frowned, thought of burning that outfit at the first convenient opportunity.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he gave another resigned sigh and moved, grabbing his keys and pulling open the front door.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo shook his head at her. "Come on, _Inoue-chan_."

She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and his smile widened.

"But… where are we going?"

He turned to see her gripping her elbow in signature Orihime fashion before walking out into the sunlight.

"Out. I doubt the Arisawa's keep bean paste stocked."

**A/N**

**Longer? Just barely. I fail on so many levels. **

**Lol. Ichigo-kun's kind of a slut in this one, ne? Should I tone him down? I can't tell if he's OOC or not…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Authorial Notice:**

**I'm sorry this is so late! Please don't kill me Seliel! Hmm… Oh, but I guess you're late too, huh? Ha ha! See how I did that? Guilt trip, much?**

**Okay, so I know the last chapter was fail and I'm honestly having trouble with this, because on one hand I like the idea for this story and on the other, well, I'm pretty certain I've slaughtered the characters and I hate that. So, blah. I'm sorry. Feel free to yell at me, I'm sure I deserve it :)**

**And watch out for typos! I haven't had much time to write so this is pretty much just slapped together and published. Don't kill the author!**

Chapter Four

Her relationship with Ichigo's car was love-hate. Because while she appreciated its curves and the way it suited his disposition, it always seemed to be out to get her. Catching her hair in the doors, distracting her with its shiny black paint and open roof.

Orihime glanced at Ichigo from behind the reflective shades of her sunglasses as her hair whipped in the wind. She had always been fascinated with how he looked when he drove, all that single-minded focus as he gazed at the road, heavy lashes lowered, strong hands sliding over the steering wheel or shifting gears when he drove too fast. Which was always.

She tilted her head, studying him without trying to look like it.

As usual, she was painfully aware of Ichigo.

He had grown even taller since high school, if that were possible. And the older he got, the better he seemed to look. His features had refined, sharpening to the point that she sometimes found it difficult to look at him without aching deep in her chest. And hollow slaying, hours of relentless training, had made his strength evident in every line of his war-hardened body.

Ruined.

That was the only way to describe the way he made her feel. She was completely ruined for any other man. His shadow would always hang over her heart.

Orihime had always known that he was attractive, had always felt lucky to be counted a good friend, but now there was firsthand experience of how skillful he was with his hands and with his mouth, how he could work her into a stupor without even trying. And… And she was certain there was more she didn't even know to dream about .

But that was the problem, because it _was_ a dream.

It would be too convenient to believe he had suddenly grown feelings for her, just when she had decided to throw caution to the wind.

No. He was doing it again. Trying to protect her.

He was willing to saddle himself into a— whatever this was with her— just to keep her safe. To protect her stupid reputation that had never brought her anything but difficulty.

And that… that just wasn't _fair_. Not for either of them. She didn't want pity. She wanted him to love her. But she had given up on that a long time ago. If it was going to happen, it would have already. There had been too many opportunities, too many chances, too many almost-but-not-quites. And that was _fine_.

They were friends. Wasn't that enough?

This is why she had never told him about her feelings. The guilt of not being able to return them would have eaten him alive, until it was better to be a martyr for love than to continue their friendship knowing how she felt.

Ichigo loved his friends more than anything, and he was willing to sacrifice himself to prove it. And that was unacceptable. He deserved his chance to find happiness... Even if it was with someone else. She wanted that for him _more_ than she wanted it for herself.

Orihime turned away, gazing out the window without paying attention to what was flashing by.

She would let him have his way for now, mostly because once he had made up his mind about something, there wasn't anything anyone could do to change it, but also— if she was being completely honest with herself— there wasn't anyone she would trust more, _wanted_ more, to take her through her first time. After all, it wasn't like he wouldn't be getting anything in return. He would be getting her most sacred possession.

But that was all it would be. When the weekend was over, she was going to have to learn to let him go for good.

()()()

Ichigo shadowed Orihime through the store, carefully trying to decipher her expression. His hand stayed on her back or on her arm, but always within reaching distance. He narrowed his eyes at the men who looked at her, not that she noticed. Orihime had always been oblivious to her ability to turn heads. But the few still stupid enough to try and pick her up were treated to an overprotectiveIchigo.

_Assholes._

Who the hell tried to pick someone up at a supermarket?

He narrowed his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line as yet another man sized her up. They just didn't quit.

Maybe the store was a bad idea. It had only been an attempt to get them out of the house before Ichigo lost his cool and took her against a wall. And Orihime had been fidgeting nervously the entire time, hardly meeting his eyes. He hated that. It would be the first thing to go as soon as he got her back.

"How did you know where to find me?"

He glanced at her, blinking back to the present as they passed through produce. "Tatsuki."

Orihime wrinkled her nose and he scoffed.

"You're lucky she told me, you know." _Really, really_ _lucky.._.

She didn't say anything and he sighed.

"Anything else you want?"

"Maybe some fruit… Watermelon or pickled radishes."

Ichigo didn't comment, merely steered them that direction, having long since grown accustomed to her strange tastes. It was hard not to when she and Tatsuki only lived a few floors below. That had been the selling point to his new place. Well, that and the fact that if he had to spend another second with Keigo, one of them was going to die. A slow _painful_ death_._ And it was nice being able to have the two of them over to spend quiet evenings studying or watching movies, even if that meant sometimes finding odd culinary concoctions in his fridge.

After paying, they walked to the car, the conversation almost at a normal comfort level except for the fresh awareness that hung between them, but they would adjust, just like they had for everything else they had been through.

She withdrew as they drove, staring out the window.

He had just resigned himself to a quiet drive when she finally spoke.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing. I've never…" She glanced to make sure he was listening before turning back to her reflection, fingers clutching the fabric of her skirt. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed with me."

His hands tightened on the wheel. He almost laughed, because the thought was _that_ ridiculous. "I won't."

He had imagined being with her for so long that there couldn't possibly be any aspect he hadn't covered. Showing her, _teaching_ her… was quite literally a dream come true.

He saw her glance at him quickly from the corner of his eye then look away again.

He counted five heartbeats before he spoke again, making sure his voice was level.

"Is there anything you want to try?" He kept his eyes on the road, but all of his attention was focused on her as he asked the next part, mouth suddenly dry. "Any, uh… fantasies?"

Her breathing picked up, hands rubbing her arms. "I don't know… Do you? Have fantasies, I mean."

He almost laughed again.

"Of course, I do."

Almost all of which centered on her and he gave them _way_ too much thought.

Although, he'd had a dream once which involved not just Orihime, but her dark-haired roommate as well. Though upon waking, he had decided that it was probably the byproduct of their late night movies and too much onigiri, and had reminded himself that he wasn't that type of guy, and avoided Tatsuki the next week, just for good measure.

Orihime didn't reply, so he let it drop, content just to know it was on her mind.

They pulled into the drive and Ichigo grabbed the bags from the back as they got out, ignoring her protest and instead watching her as she ran to open the door. After putting everything up and exercising more willpower than he knew he possessed, Ichigo turned to watch her flutter around the kitchen, trying to look busy without actually doing anything.

He twisted back to the counter, grabbing an empty bag so that she wouldn't see his smirk. Orihime always seemed to be able to make him smile.

"Hungry?"

Orihime jumped, not having heard him walk up behind her. Hey eyes were big and if he looked closely, he could see her pulse beating under the soft skin of her throat.

She licked her lips, leaving them to sparkle in the light from the window, as her gaze fell to his mouth.

"N-No, n-not really..."

He closed his eyes. "Thank Kami."

Orihime gasped when his hands closed around her waist and she found herself crushed to Ichigo's chest as his mouth caught hers. Currents of coiling fire spread through her lips and flared down her jaw as he brushed feather light against her before deepening the kiss.

Iridescent light flashed behind her eyes when he groaned against her mouth, tugging her closer, tongue sneaking out to brush the delicate skin of her lower lip before pulling it into his mouth with his teeth. Orihime gasped and he pressed against her with more resolve. _Oh…Kami-sama…_ She hoped she could learn to kiss as well as he did. It was unbelievable, overwhelming. She couldn't do anything against the force of the sensations battering her small frame except fist her hands in his shirt, holding on and trying to return the sensual thrill with all her might.

He broke from her mouth with harsh panting, reminding her that she needed to breathe too, and she did, fighting for all the air she could before he latched on to her pulse point.

Orihime jerked, unprepared for the surge of pure feeling that struck like heat lightning, flaring along every nerve, burning her from the inside out. Her body went stiff, nails digging in and he growled, hands wrapping around to pull her closer, bodies pressed into intimate contact.

She moaned when her backside was pushed into the countertop behind her, leaving no escape as his legs pinned hers, and he pressed into the hollow of her hips, flesh contacting delicious flesh with excruciating responsiveness.

Ichigo's mouth grazed down her throat, closing over her shoulder. Mewling, her head fell back, acting on its own inclination. Her breasts ached, sharp pulses of torture radiating from where they contacted his chest. He was as overwhelming as the tide, unstoppable, inescapable, turning her body against her.

But something was bothering her… A tickle of doubt.

Anxiety crept to the front of her mind at the feel of hardness nudging her lower belly. It felt… Would it hurt? She had heard it did the first time. And she had heard other things. Things about his size from past girlfriends that had both fascinated and tormented her. What would it feel like?

Orihime shivered.

Although, she couldn't back out now. For once- _just one time_- she would do what she wanted without thinking of all the reasons she shouldn't.

Still…

The hardness pressed with more insistence and she whimpered, jerking back and pushing at his chest with her hands.

"I-Ichigo, I'm afraid."

He didn't seem to comprehend her words for a second, standing, catching his breath, looking down at her with passion-dark, confused eyes.

"Afraid…? Afraid of what? Me?"

Rubbing her arms, Orihime thought about her response, feeling a bit guilty for spoiling the moment. She watched him swallow, visibly calming himself while strong fingers clinched and unclenched at his sides.

"I don't know, maybe a little." She peaked up from under her lashes to see how badly he was going to take it, and was surprised to see a tender look gracing his features. Her heart thumped, mouth parting as she blinked up, and she blushed, feeling small and silly.

"Orihime," His hand curled around the back of her neck, thumb gently kneading the downy, baby hair. "You should know that I would never harm you. I can't promise it won't hurt, but just… just trust me. Okay?"

His eyes sparkled with a determination that was pure Ichigo.

She nodded, numb to everything but that smoldering look. She _did_ trust him, and really, it wasn't the pain she was afraid of… it was the unknown. But if he was there, if it was Ichigo, it would be alright.

Orihime nodded again, more firmly this time so he would know she meant it. And it was strange, but once she acted certain, she felt certain. She trusted him, implicitly.

He knelt and the brush of fingers tickling the back of her knee was the only warning she had before she was flying into the air, snatched up into powerful arms. Then they were marching out of the kitchen, passed the living room and headed toward—

"Wait!"

He stopped as if she had thrown on invisible brakes, arms tightening as he peered down at her with startled, amber eyes. "Huh?"

"I—" She hid her face behind her hands, trying not to let him see how red it had abruptly grown. But if she was going to do it, she should at least be able to say it. "I wanted…"

Orihime bit her lip, frustrated at her lack of articulation. Her hands curled into small fists.

"I want to do what you did earlier…"

He blinked then smiled, looking vaguely amused. "We could—"

"…for you."

Orihime yelped as she slipped through his suddenly loosened fingers. He caught her before she fell, clutching her back to his chest with a grip that was just a bit too tight.

"You mean… " He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"U-unless you don't want to!"

"No, I want to, I just wasn't sure you'd be ready for something like that."

Not ready? Why wouldn't she be ready? Did she need more experience first? Was he afraid she wouldn't do it right? Would she? Maybe she didn't know what she was asking. Or she had been too forward! Had she grossed him out?

"Orihime…"

"Ehh?"

"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking. We can do anything you're comfortable doing."

"Really?"

He didn't answer, just walked to the couch, lowering Orihime down and sitting beside her, trying his hardest to give an encouraging smile. "Whatever you want."

Fingers pulled at the fabric of her skirt, twisting and releasing. Her eyes flicked to his before dropping again as she thought, but he saw them briefly glance toward his jeans and that was all the silent request he needed. Standing he unfastened the buttons, fingers fumbling slightly as if working through icy water.

Then he was standing in his boxers and t-shirt, and he had to remind himself that she had seen him crawl out of bed before so there really wasn't any reason to be embarrassed. Except it was hard to recall when she was sitting there staring at him in open wonder.

He wet his lips. "Anything else?"

"Can… Can I touch you?"

Ichigo's voice abandoned him and he wasn't sure what would come out if he tried forcing it. Reclaiming his place beside her, he slid a hand around her neck and drew her in for a kiss.

His control was starting to get shaky and that was bad. There was still a long way to go. He needed to restrain himself. This wasn't about him. It was about her.

That was so tough to remember when her lips were soft and pliable under his. But he managed, stringing out the heat between them, kneading her muscles with practiced hands until she was panting and muddled, tangled up into a web of need. Then slowly, giving her time to withdraw if she wanted, he guided her hand down to the opening of his boxers and the hard flesh beneath, gasping, almost choking as her small fingers closed around it.

_And fuck… _He knew right then and there that he was ruined for anyone else but her.

()()()

**Am I evil for ending there? No… You just think I am :) **

**Wow. This story just keeps getting longer and longer. It was only supposed to be three chapters in the beginning, but it just won't die… **


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Most Dangerous Things

Chapter Five

Orihime was surprised by the size of it. She had heard those stories of course, but she had no experience to make a comparison. Now, looking at it, she was beginning to wonder if she would be enough woman for him.

Her small hand barely circled him, fingers not quite touching. Awareness flashed through her, hot and sharp and tingling, spreading through her chest and pooling into throbbing waves that collected between her thighs.

Very slowly, using her fingertips, she touched the velvety head, the smooth skin gliding under her touch. It was so hard and so soft at the same time. It pulsed when she stroked a finger down the side and she heard Ichigo curse very low.

"I-Ichigo?"

Had she hurt him? It looked like he was in pain. His eyes were shut tight, jaw clenched. The muscles of his chest and forearms tensed as he curled his hands into hard fists.

"Squeeze me, Orihime." His voice was rough. "_Hard_."

Her breath caught, fascinated by him, by the way he was so unashamed to voice his desires. She obeyed and he hissed when her hand closed around him and she squeezed.

Ichigo groaned, muscles tensing and shivering under her naïve touch.

It seemed no matter what she did, he enjoyed it, and that gave her the self-assurance to explore. And he was more than willing to show her anything she didn't know, without hesitation, without reserve. The sheer confidence in himself, and in her, made Orihime's pulse flutter.

Though she was consumed with her task, she couldn't take her eyes off his face. Amber peeked at her from beneath his lashes.

"What?" His lids were heavy, the toned muscles of his neck chorded. "Tell me what you're thinking."

She swallowed, blushing under the warm weight of his gaze. "Can…Will you… t-take off your shirt. So I can s-see you?"

He chuckled, male pride flashing in his eyes before he grabbed the hem of his shirt and whipped it over his head.

She had never found herself to be overly visual, but heat flushed through her system, burning in her veins from her face down to her toes and everywhere in between. Broad well-muscled shoulders curved over a hard, smooth chest that slipped down to an undulant and lean waist. There was so much toned, sun-bronzed skin. She wanted… She wanted to-to bite it.

Orihime stared, swallowing and licking dry lips.

He looked like a banquet, a mouthwatering delicacy, laid out to be touched and licked and eaten. She watched the smooth slide of muscle on muscle as he settled back, arms spread out, affecting a relaxed pose.

Her stare dropped back to her hand and the hard male flesh it encircled. Breathing heavy, Orihime sunk to her knees, moving closer, glancing up to see if Ichigo would stop her. When he didn't, her gaze travelled back down.

Her hand twitched on him, and he inhaled when it brushed down his length and back up again. The smooth ripples made when his stomach tensed mesmerized her. She did it again and watched as his jaw clenched, head slipping back as he arched up toward her touch like a cat.

Her heart was pounding, blood buzzing under flushed skin as the air in the room became stifling.

She felt powerful, yet weak, exhilarated, but shaky. Her legs folded beneath her as she pushed up, just enough to reach out a hand and brush fingers across his chest. His hardness pulsed in her other hand, startling her attention back to it.

There was a tiny drop of liquid starting at the very tip, glistening and hypnotic. Her tongue peeked out between her lips ,prickling with the longing that was usually reserved for candies and other sweet things. But it did look sweet, though, like a drop of honey sparkling at her, tempting her, begging her.

Orihime leaned forward and closed her mouth over the head of his erection, swabbing her tongue over the velvet tip, savoring the salty-softness. She hadn't expected the flavor to be so sensual and Orihime moaned around him, lids dropping closed as she sucked softly.

"F-fuck."

Ichigo caught her wrist and tangled a hand into her hair, pulling her off. Her startled eyes found his as she thoughtlessly licked at her bottom lip. Molten amber flashed, luminous and sharp, something dangerous sparking deep inside.

"Not yet." His eyes dropped to her mouth and he swallowed. "Please. Fuck. Not yet."

Ichigo's hands closed around her hips and he lifted her into his lap easily, mouth taking hers in a hungry kiss. Fuck. His vision was blurred. Every instinct he had told him to flip her over and rut her like an animal.

Orihime pulled back, frustrating him as he tried to recapture her, eyeing his body in a way that made him groan with anticipation. She tilted her head and smiled, and his heart clenched before pounding furiously when she leaned in and closed her mouth on his neck. A flash of light and heat clapped through his nervous system. His hands skimmed up her ribs, then over her spine, hauling her into flush contact, feeding the conflagration inside of him.

Fire sparked everywhere she touched him, lancing his flesh in an almost painful pleasure. Never. _Never_ had it been like this. He'd never gotten half of this kind of fulfillment with anyone else. They had unbelievable chemistry. He was about ready to spontaneously combust, and he hadn't ever made that mistake before. He either had to calm down or find release, and he had waited so long he didn't know if he could possibly wait another second.

"Orihime, _touch me_."

She slid from his lap so eagerly that he was left blinking at the spot she had been. That wasn't what he had meant… but if she was that determined, he sure as hell wasn't going to stop her.

She grasped him again, making his body jerk at the overwhelming jolt that flashed through him. Then her tongue flattened over the tip and she gave it a long, smooth stroke. She made happy little sounds in the back of her throat and he nearly came of the couch. His feet dug into the carpet and he struggled not to fist his hands into her hair and guide her down further.

The tiny movements weren't enough to push him over the edge, but they were just maddening enough to drag him there, scraping out every last degree of pleasure possible. He groaned when her mouth finally descended along the full length of him, sucking on the way back up. The pleasure was excruciating.

"Shit, Orihime... I can't hold it anymore."

Orihime's eyes were wide and bright as she looked up, confused. And, God, she didn't even bother to take him out of her mouth. He groaned and swallowed the glass that seemed to be lodged in his throat so he could spell it out. "I'm going to come."

She blinked before understanding lit her eyes. "C-Can I…"

Ichigo watched her face flush, curious. Then he realized what she was asking. Not trusting his voice to be steady, he swallowed and nodded, fixed on her movements.

She watched him as she lowered her head back down, almost as if she expected he would change his mind.

He almost whimpered when her hot mouth closed back over the head. Then she sucked him, lips and tongue sliding down, and Ichigo lost it. He growled, hissed at the sharp tug of the beginning of release, feeling his stomach tighten, teeth grinding as every muscle squeezed and his toes dug down.

He gasped.

She squeaked at the first hot burst, but his hands and eyes were shut so tight, he couldn't even think about it. Fierce pleasure shot through him, making him struggle for breath through clenched teeth. He wanted to offer words of encouragement, but it came out in incoherent groans as another wave of adrenaline hit him, forcing him to pant and arch forward.

Orihime didn't disappoint. She kept sucking, licking and sliding her mouth around him as the intense pleasure slowly, so very slowly began to dissipate, drifting into the background as he regained awareness of his surroundings. He had to reach down and remove her— something he never would have thought possible— and swelled with satisfaction at her whine of protest.

She licked her lips and Ichigo groaned. The look of excitement and wonder on her face was making his breath so ragged he thought he might choke. She really was going to kill him.

Shit. She was fucking unreal. He couldn't believe he had managed to keep his hands to himself for so long.

Orihime blinked at him, flashing a shy smile and tucking her hair behind her ear. "Can we do that again?"

His eyes closed, head falling back to the couch.

"Hell, yes. Anytime you want."

Ichigo sighed then stole a glance to see what she was up to, pressing lips together when he reailized she was watching his member slowly deflate.

Before she could start anything else, he scooped her up, tugging her back into his lap for a long kiss.

Ichigo had never been the type of guy to get off on the way he tasted on a girl, but with Orihime, damn, it was hot. Everything about her was hot to him though, and it always had been.

He sighed again, releasing her lips before pulling her tight to his chest.

Now, he was hungry.

A/N

Do not be fooled by smut! There is a plot to this, I promise.

And remember, reviews are to this author what boobs are to Kon! XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Warning: Non-canon. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

**Authorial Notice:**

**Ha, see, I knew someone was going to get me on that mention of Ichigo having a dirty dream about Orihime and Tatsuki. :P And I just have to say, it's totally possible. You don't always have control over who you dream about, even if you aren't remotely attract****ed to them. That said, I'd feel the same way if I was reading it instead of writing it, I'm sure. :D **

()()()

Chapter Six

Orihime smiled to no one in particular while munching a piece of fruit.

She was lounging in a deck chair now, small feet propped on the railing in front of her. The wind ruffled the twisting curls of copper hair over her back and pushed her skirt a couple inches higher up her smooth, sun-warmed thighs.

Ichigo traced them with his eyes then his gaze flicked back to her face and he suppressed a chuckle.

That little smile was occupying most of the space in his brain, because he could read it right to left.

She liked that she'd been able to make him lose control, even if it was just for a moment, and she looked so damn proud of herself that he was damn near grinning too. He snorted as she licked her fingers.

"Work up an appetite?"

Her eyes shot to his, mouth falling open and blush spreading. Ichigo eyed the pink flesh, half-tempted to see how far down her neck it went... but that was before the piece of fruit she had been about to chew, lodged itself in her throat.

A hand flew to her neck and she froze the same way she usually did when surprised.

With a sigh, he leaned forward and thumped her back until she sputtered. The coughing turned into gasps as she took air back into her lungs.

Orihime dodged his gaze as she reached for her cup and he resisted the urge to drop his hand down to her leg. She needed space. It wasn't a race. He didn't want her to feel rushed, even if he was already once again, prepared to burst into flames if she turned around and so much as ran a hand down his arm.

He couldn't help it.

The anticipation. This ridiculous attraction between them. The way the sun turned her skin into a glowing, supple, stroke of lust inspiring genius. Just… her. All of it was like a drug, pulling him, submissive, back for more.

Honestly, he still wasn't sure how she'd managed to wiggle out of his hold on the couch. He'd been quite content to sit there, letting his hands play over her curves until his body was prepared to go again, which hadn't taken long, but she'd slipped away, leaving him with no choice except to follow.

And he kept imagining the way her hair felt clenched between his fingers.

_Shit, he was screwed... _

She was such a fucking force of nature. Except, instead of property, it was his emotions she was blasting with disaster. He was getting flattened, and _damn it_, he _liked_ that he was getting flattened. She had the damn leash around his neck and it fucking felt _good_.

He still couldn't believe what she'd done. Or how eagerly.

Ichigo shifted in his chair. Orihime poked at a radish.

He wanted more.

He wanted her out of that _too damn long_ skirt. He wanted her naked, preferably under him. Or on top, it didn't really matter the position as long as she was looking at him with that expression she'd had on earlier.

His hands slid up to grip the rails of his chair as he shifted again.

She was innocence incarnate, but he'd long since decided that the carnal haze that sometimes darkened her eyes suited her.

When she hummed her appreciation for the rolls he'd picked out, gently licking the honey butter off her fingers, Ichigo's plate almost slid from his lap. He caught it at the last second, but it cracked in his hold.

_Damn the Arisawa's and their damned cheap, plastic plates..._

"Ichigo-kun, are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"I'm not sure what that plate ever did to you." She smiled, taking it away, walking into the house, disappearing before returning, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she sat. "So… what now?"

His mind flipped through several possibilities.

"Not sure. This isn't how I ever pictured this going."

"You think about me?"

Ichigo blinked.

_Oh, shit.._.

Had he said that?

Her carrot stick was still poised at her mouth and she was staring at him. _Damn_, no point in trying to back out now.

He was caught.

"Sure, sometimes..." He scratched his neck, turning away to look at the beach so she wouldn't read the partial truth he was certain was written all over his face.

It was a hell of a lot more than sometimes, but that was a conversation better saved for later, because chasing a girl across three towns, abducting her from the beach and locking her away for a long weekend of sex, sounded a tad stalker-obsessive, even to him.

He glanced back to see her lick her lips.

"What… What kinds of things did you picture?"

He licked his own lips, trying to focus.

That was easy enough. The same thing every guy in love thought about.

"You… Me..." He flicked his gaze to her eyes. "Naked." He shrugged and smiled. "Sorry."

She was still staring and maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all. What would she think knowing he'd fantasized about her?

Her eyes fell and for a second, she looked sad.

Damn it, he hadn't meant to upset her… "Orihime?"

"Heh, I'm sorry…"

Ichigo tensed at her tone. Was she crying?

Her arm came up to swipe at her face and she glanced up.

"It's… It's just… I don't believe you." She bit her lip before shaking her head and rubbing more tears away. "Ichigo-kun… I'm not looking to make you love me."

"Ori—"

"No, please… I'm sorry. I don't want to spoil things. Let's just talk about something else, okay? Please…"

Orihime reached out and grasped his hand, offering a timid smile. He nodded, but his shoulders tightened until he was sitting straight and his gut was churning.

_She didn't want love._

Her words kept echoing around his head until they were half pounded into his skull.

He was such a fucking idiot. Of course, she didn't want something like that from him. What had made him think otherwise?

Trying to rationalize they would be something else just because he had staked some sort of claim, traversed unmarked territory. But that didn't mean anything if Orihime didn't want to be more. Which she apparently didn't. He was still just a friend.

He was just someone she could trust to help her with a _problem_—

"Look," he bit out, standing. "I'm going to go take a walk."

"Ichigo-kun? I didn't—"

"It's fine." He pushed a hand through his hair, already down the steps. "I just need some air."

()()()

Orihime pulled her knees into her chest, looking out over the setting sun and trying not to cry.

She had upset him.

Upset him with her stupid, thoughtless comments and her dumb mouth.

It wouldn't have surprised her if he'd been halfway back to college, except that his car was still parked by the house.

Orihime sighed and reached down to poke at the donut she'd half eaten, resting beside her hip- the one Ichigo had picked out, just for her. He picked out lots of things she liked all the time. He even kept bean paste in his apartment, again, just for her.

Ichigo was a really nice person.

But this situation... This was— _She_ was stupid. How many times had she laughed off painful remarks from Ichigo's girlfriends when they'd said similar things? Not that Ichigo would have allowed such comments if he'd known. He never kept any girlfriend that didn't get along with her or Tatsuki or Rukia when she visited, but still… They _talked_, and she was certain she knew far more about Ichigo's love life than even he realized.

Some treated her like a rival, while others seemed to want to make fast friends. It always confused her how changeable they were. Nice when Ichigo was there, but indifferent or even mean, when he wasn't.

Those kinds of comments weren't new. It had just hurt so much more hearing it from him. She _knew_ he didn't think of her in that way and it had never been so hard to brush aside, no matter how much she wanted it to be true.

Orihime curled her toes into the deck, feeling the wood grain rasp against her feet before she laughed.

But she was being silly, wasn't she?

They _were_ doing these things, even if she had unintentionally forced him into offering.

It was just a misunderstanding. He had obviously just said what he thought she wanted to hear, and then she had over-reacted. She was being contrary. After all, wasn't it her desire to be more like the girls he dated that had put the idea of coming here into her head in the first place? She shouldn't have gotten so upset if he said what she'd secretly always hoped to hear…

Except it _was_ a lie, wasn't it?

She felt so uncertain.

He hadn't been pretending when they had done those things earlier. Orihime pressed her cheeks tighter to her knees as they started to burn, because she _knew_ he hadn't been pretending.

And neither had she.

A weekend to remember. That's what she'd told Tatuski, and she had meant it.

Ichigo didn't need to feel like he had to say the right things to make her happy. He was already making her happy. This weekend would be amazing, because it was him. Afterwards… Well, she'd deal with that when she got there.

And she wouldn't feel guilty about what she was doing. She _wouldn't_.

The crunch of gravel shook her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Ichigo standing in the long shadows cast by the sun.

Ichigo swallowed.

God, he was an ass.

He knew it as soon as he saw her huddled on the steps and he stopped, just watching the fading light intensify her striking, almost preternatural beauty. He ran his gaze along the flood of luminous hair, tumbling down, spilling over her clasped arms, the curve of her spine, pooling on the wood around her. Her face was distant as she stared at her toes, and she looked soft and breakable.

There was a sharp tug in his chest, just behind his breastbone, and just behind that was the fear that he just _wouldn't_ be able to let her go.

But she wasn't something to be owned or possessed. And even though he'd known that, he was still trying to… to what? Seduce her? Catch her? Trap her?

If anyone else had even insinuated something along those lines, he would have been furious, would have taught them different. With pain, if need be. And now, he was trying to do the same?

Maybe fusing with his hollow had permanently screwed up his brain.

It had always been hard to control his emotions. And the way that side of him reacted to her… It was _frightening_. Or at least, it had been. It was easier now, but a few years ago, it was all he could do to keep it pushed down when she was nearby. Sometimes, it still was.

But the instinct didn't like taking no for an answer, so Ichigo had compromised.

The first time he'd had sex, it hadn't been deliberate. He hadn't gotten her name and honestly couldn't even recall a face, only a long swathe of bright red hair. The only thing that told him what he'd done at all was a messy bed and a torn condom package that he sure as hell had never purchased.

He wasn't even certain he had initiated anything.

Their group had gone out and Orihime had worn some silky, clinging, work-of-a-torture-artist dress, and every damn time she moved her arms, the fabric slid across her breasts and climbed her thighs. He'd never noticed before that night how much she used her hands to talk when she was excited.

Ichigo didn't drink often. He hated the hazy mess it made of his thoughts, but that night he didn't _want_ to think. So he'd drank. He'd drank until he couldn't hear that dark voice in the back of his head and his inebriated faculties realized that if he didn't look straight at the redhead rubbing up against him, his mind could run wild.

It worked, mostly. Like throwing a bone to a hungry dog. And even though the hollow wanted meat, it still gnawed at whatever Ichigo tossed its way.

And it shut it up.

For weeks after that, he'd been able to see Orihime and be near her without a single interference.

But he was such an idiot. The time that his hollow would remain quiet shrank. In the end, he'd been feeding the problem instead of making it go away, and he'd been shielding Orihime by using the— albeit more than willing— girls that seemed to flock to him since entering college. Not that they'd complained about being used, even if he was occasionally wracked with so much guilt he let himself be cornered into a doomed relationship.

But he didn't want that for _her_.

He hadn't been kidding when he said she deserved more.

Orihime wasn't just some girl. She was _the_ girl. The one that had begun it all, the one he _loved_, and it was like a kick to the gut that she was content to be a notch in the fucking bedpost.

And even knowing that didn't dampen his wanting her.

He wanted her with every thread of his goddam soul. Even being angry, even being torn up on the inside over it, didn't make him want her any less and didn't make him any less hard. But if she didn't want a commitment, could he still go through with it?

Stupid. Stupid. _Damned_ stupid.

Orihime could be _determined_.

If he didn't go through with it, she'd just find someone else to fuck her.

Something tightened inside him, a feeling that sprouted angry talons and used them to claw out his insides. It was the same feeling he got when he'd catch one of those bastards feeling her up with their eyes. Too menacing to be called jealousy. More like the desire to relish slicing someone apart, section by section, and he knew enough to recognize where it came from.

He frowned when she continued contemplating in silence, still failing to recognize that he was watching her. Didn't she have and self-preservation at all? He could have been anyone.

Ichigo shoved a hand through his hair and she looked up, startled.

All he could do was stare back, frozen.

Her eyes gutted him. They were filled and glistening. He was almost instantly overwhelmed with the urge to crush her to his chest.

Damn, he was so fucking selfish.

She didn't want him. Fine.

But he was sure as hell going to make sure she never forgot him, that no one that came after would ever satisfy her or leave half as deep a mark. And he wasn't going to let go until she forced him.

Orihime stood, slipping down the steps and coming to rest in front of him. She blinked up at him with sparkling eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I—"

She lost her thought as he caught her head between his palms. He stepped forward until she was flush against the solid wall of his chest and his lips crushed hers before she knew what was happening.

She gasped, fingers clenching the front of his shirt.

Her eyes widened then slid closed on a moan. _This_… _This kiss_… It wasn't the same as the others, not even the angry ones. Awareness sizzled through her like a flash, sweeping inside, devouring her body in a conflagration of instant, swirling heat. Fire licked up her insides and back down again, taking her very breath.

He plunged deep into her mouth, a hand tangling into her hair and arching her head back to a better angle. Stroke after stroke, his tongue brushed hers creating a rhythm that had blood gathering down into her sex and pulsing in time to his caresses. His teeth sank into her fleshy lower lip, tugging before he licked that away as well.

She couldn't breathe, but decided it was hardly important compared to what he was doing to her.

Fingers moved through the tender baby hair at the back of her neck and higher, cinching and fisting her long strands, tugging to pull her head back further so that she was angled and defenseless against his invasive onslaught. He nipped her tongue and light flared through her body like a supernova, snapping wide grey eyes open to meet his.

He was watching her face with a heavy gaze and lazy intensity that startled her enough to stumble away.

Orihime ran her fingers over her still tingling mouth.

The way he was looking at her…

"K-Kurosaki-kun?"

"Did I worry you?"

She almost denied it automatically, a thoughtless response to his predatory expression, but hesitated. His eyes were inscrutable. They were bothering her.

"I didn't mean to ruin the mood," he said.

Her hands tightened into small fists. "It wasn't your fault, I—"

He kissed her again, stealing her words, pulling back after she seemed thoroughly distracted. "Don't do that. And you keep calling me Kurosaki."

The skin between his eyes crumpled into a scowl and something inside her relaxed. Until she realized the sun had crept below the horizon, and the only logical place left for them to end up tonight was the bedroom.

Her heart thudded in her chest, picking up a frantic rhythm, one that she hoped to hide, but knew it was useless almost immediately.

Winding fingers back into her hair, his smile kicked up the side of his mouth.

"Are you still afraid?" He twisted a single strand around his finger, watching it before meeting her eyes again. "Of going through with this?"

There was something in his tone that told her the answer was important, and that it wasn't truly the question he wanted to ask, but try as she might, she couldn't interpret his expression.

She gave him a smile and the only answer she had that was absolutely, inarguably true.

"I trust you."

He swallowed. She watched the movement as his fingers slid down to clasp her hand in a tight grip and his mouth lowered back to hers.

()()()

**A/N**

**Ah! I told myself I wasn't going to write hollow Ichi into this at all… and I've failed! I'm sorry! I swear I can write stories without him. I swear! *goes off into a corner to die without disturbing anyone further***

**And last, but not least— definitely **_**not**_** least— I****t's been forever since my last update. I am ashamed. Beat me, please, I know I deserve it. Especially from Klrob, whom I fear deeply. **_**BUT…**_**I will make a promise. If you will do your part and review, I promise to try my hardest to have this fic finished within a month. ****That's about a chapter a week. Deal?**

**And whew, here we go. A **_**special**_** thanks to everyone who has reviewed, fav'ed, and alerted this story.**

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	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Warnings: Ichigo's naughty mouth. Not Canon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

**Authorial Notice: **

**As promised, and I have to say, I'm quite proud of myself. I actually updated when I said I would. And even a day early! Yes, yes, hold your applause…**

**And Nypsy, I believe I worked out a bit of a compromise on that little problem we talked about. Hope this makes it a bit better :)**

Chapter Seven

Ichigo kicked the door shut, not having a free hand since his arms were occupied, and his mouth as well.

He was damn near shaking as fire crawled through his veins. That's what she did to him.

Ten minutes ago, his gut had been shredding itself into streamers while he watched Orihime sitting on the steps, and now, he was damn near burning alive, one hand splayed across her lower back to press her as close as possible, the other tugging on a slender thigh, pulling her legs up to fasten around his middle.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Touching her this way felt like snapping two puzzle pieces together. A perfect fit. Something that was meant to happen, _supposed_ to happen.

But if this was all he was going to get of her, he'd have to take enough to last an entire lifetime.

His hands tightened as he gripped her middle, stroking the delicate bones of her ribcage with his thumbs, trapping her body between his stronger, unyielding frame and the solid door. His tongue struggled to subdue hers, catching and releasing in an endless chase as he groaned against her mouth.

She couldn't have any idea what she did to him, the depth of it… how she made his blood blaze beneath his skin.

Orihime's fingers slid into his hair, tugging orange strands, and a growl worked through his chest at the sharp contrast of sensations.

Tearing his mouth away, Ichigo scraped fiery kisses down her jaw, to her neck, anywhere his lips could reach. He wanted to memorize the taste of her, tried drawing it out with every swipe of his tongue. He found the pulse in her throat, sucked it until she struggled, her body mindlessly twisting in an attempt to get away or get better contact, fingers still locked into his hair.

Shoving down the high collar of her shirt, he angled Orihime's head back, lapped and nipped over the fragile skin above her breast

She jolted, crying out, and the sound of it battered against his control.

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

A kiss and some heavy petting, and he was at the very _edge_ of his restraint.

And he could feel the excitement vibrating through her riatsu, the instinctive hunger, and it fucking _floored_ him. He could feel _everything_, all of her.

His stomach buzzed with fierce stabs of charged adrenaline that he felt helpless to stop. Damn, what was this? The agony of losing her or of finally attaining her? It knotted him up, almost forcing him to his limits. She would be _gone_. In just a few short days, she would be back outside of his reach, and it didn't matter what he had to offer or how fucking glorious they were together, and this… this would fade to a pale memory of how close he had come to catching a dream.

"K-Kuro…saki…kun…"

Crushing her to the door, Ichigo grunted, resisting the urge to correct her as his hips ground into the curve of hers, fingers clutching until he was sure he was leaving bruises.

He softened his grip.

Heat pooled down through his gut, then lower, throbbing into his achingly stiff erection. She might not have a clue about the actual act, but she sure as fuck seemed to know how to get there.

Orihime arched into him over and over, and Ichigo cursed, groaned as his hard member was trapped between them, head falling to her shoulder as he experienced the fierce pleasure of her thighs squeezing him while her body struggled to find relief. She trembled and he could feel the pressure welling inside her, ready to burst.

Breathing harshly, he wrapped his arms around to secure her to him and stepped back, making his way toward the room.

Orihime gasped, whined.

"Don't stop… Please…"

"Not yet." He kissed her. He couldn't help it. She was practically begging him to let her come and the thrill of it sent a shudder coursing through him. Speaking between kisses, he held her tighter. "Not against a door. Bed."

"But Ichigo-kun, we _like_ doors..."

His control snapped.

She gasped when his muscles bunched under her palms, twisting to trap her back against the hallway wall.

So she wanted to be fucked against a door, did she?

"You shouldn't ask me for things like that, Hime. You might get it."

His head clouded, all he could hear were her pants, licking his lips as her hard nipples grazed his chest with every coarse inhalation.

The skirt had ridden up her legs. It was easy to find his way under, tracing up the inside of her thigh, shoving lacy underwear aside and burying his fingers into molten heat. He groaned, working one deep as Orihime cried out, legs clamping around him as if to keep him out. As if she could, as if she could refuse him _anything_, but the thought of her trying brought a wicked smile to his lips.

The image of her struggling, writhing under him, making delicious friction, caused a growl to rise unbidden from his throat.

She was slick and snug on his finger, and he broke into a set of chills just thinking how she would feel around his thickness, how her body would _squeeze_ him, tensing and tightening as her muscles constricted.

He shuddered, grinned, growled.

And she _was_ writhing, using her legs to get leverage to press hander onto his hand, whimpering, trying not to release the sounds he could feel locked in her throat. It was almost cute the way she tried to refuse him all those husky moans he knew he had earned.

But he could fix that.

Her head lulled back against the wall and she was gasping in time to her downward thrusts, almost mindless, head shaking in denial of some mental conflict he couldn't hear.

The chuckle was dark, easy, and completely at odds with what he was feeling. Orihime shivered.

"Hime, when I make you come, I'm going to have you screaming my name. My _real_ name." He curled his fingers, stroking the thick, pulsing muscles just above her pelvic bone, biting her shoulder, hard enough to mark, sucking hard and releasing, trailing his tongue up to whisper into the shell of her ear and smiling as she convulsed and shuddered with a sobbing moan. "Over and over."

There hadn't been any thought of saying that.

Ichigo froze.

Gathering himself, he tried desperately to step back from those tempting, dark thoughts, mentally backing away from the edge.

This was supposed to be _gentle_.

A welt was forming where his teeth had sunk into soft skin. Dropping his head, he pressed a light kiss to the bite mark.

"Shit… sorry."

Orihime didn't respond and he pulled back to look at her.

She moaned, wiggling and still attempting to relieve the pressure building inside her by moving with his hand. Her eyes were shut tight, head back, lips parted and wet, tongue pressed to her teeth. She was close.

Ichigo stared down at her, almost shocked. When had that happened?

Orihime was flushed with silky heat and lust, holding him transfixed. It wouldn't take hardly anything to make her come apart.

She was breathing hard, body tensing—

If he didn't get her to the bed _now_, he really was going to end up taking her against a wall. And he might be an asshole and a bastard, but he hadn't sunk that far.

Ichigo scooped her up, ignoring her surprised squeak and subsequent protests, loving the way she clung to him, thighs hugging his middle, the soft curve of her butt hanging just low enough to brush his erection with every step, so that by the time they made it to the room, he was half crazed.

He rolled her onto the bed, following close behind, backing her up to the middle and tearing at the buttons to his jeans at the same time. He kicked them backwards with a snarl before climbing over a sprawled Orihime.

Her lashes fluttered and she still had that lust-drunk gaze.

"Can… Can I touch you?"

"Fuck, yes. Hurry."

He leaned back, jerked off his shirt and watched her eyes go dark and stormy.

Orihime shivered at the heat in his gaze.

He said she could touch him, had told her to, and he was so much hot, velvety skin stretched over hard muscle her palms itched for it.

She did want to... very much. Sometimes, she wanted it so badly she cried, but she was afraid. What if she did something wrong? Hurt him? Crossed a line? Did something to make him come to his senses and put a stop to this?

Although, facing him, she was more afraid not to do it.

"Orihime, _touch me_." He leaned up to catch her mouth, nipping her bottom lip and sucking it hard then releasing. "Everywhere."

She shivered again at his low, rough voice, and her eyes fell to his jaw then lower to trace the firm ridge of muscle that sloped down from hard shoulders, curving, ending in well-defined upper arms. She could see the veins rising in his forearms, flowing down to strong hands, and where his pulse throbbed in his wrist. Then back up to draw over the smooth surface of his chest, the ridge between and she followed it down to the ripples that defined his stomach.

No vivid daydream could compare, and she was certain, no memory would either.

So much strength in those muscles, so much danger just under his skin, but an enticing, captivating kind of danger.

He was waiting, watching, hands fisted into the blankets, shoulders lifting with every harsh gulp of air.

Teasing him would be like teasing a stalking jungle cat. Very, very dumb.

She had learned that earlier.

But still…

"_Orihime_."

The word grit out through clenched teeth.

Swallowing, she reached out, her fingers quivering. She drew the tips down the chords of his neck, traced the hollow of his throat and then lower, flattening them, hearing his sharp inhale and frustrated noise as she pressed down.

Hands found the flat of his chest, moving soft, almost tickling and Ichigo twitched, catching her hands and pressing them back _harder_… He needed to _feel_ it, needed her fingers digging into flesh until it was riding the fine edge of pain.

She traced out the muscles of his stomach, eyes following her fingers, still too soft, but her hands were on him, he wasn't about to complain. Instead, he focused on her face.

Wonder, curiosity, a slight twinge of nervousness.

Twisting, he sat her above him, grasping her legs to keep them on either side of his hips. She blinked down with wide eyes, blushing, licking her lips, questioning him without saying a word.

"Harder."

The hands at her hips clenched and she squirmed against the fire that ignited low in her belly, and did what he wanted.

He groaned, jaw tightening as her fingers dug down.

She could feel his heart under her touch. It was exciting. Something so small and he was crumbling to pieces. It was the same way on the couch when she had used her mouth… _lower_.

Would he let her do that again? Did she dare?

But the promise of a happy and well satisfied Ichigo was its own incentive.

She leaned forward, found that hard ridge of muscle along his shoulder and closed her mouth over it, sucking to capture his taste, accidently grazing it with her teeth. He jerked, the air leaving his lungs with a choking sound, but she barely heard it in the haze tasting him had produced. Her eyes slid closed and she hummed, shifting to find a new spot that was just as addictive as the first.

Orihime wanted to tell him how good he tasted, but the hunger for his skin was insatiable and she didn't want to pull away.

She nibbled on the tempting flesh just under his jaw, dragging her tongue back toward his ear, following the curve of tight contours. She moaned again when his hardness brushed her core, his hands rocking her hips. It distracted her from her prize, but only for a moment.

Trailing openmouthed kisses down his chest, greedy hands wandering, exploring every dip and curve, fingertips brushing over firm, heated, flesh. He half-groaned, half-whimpered when she licked over the contours of his stomach, flattening her tongue and dragging it across then following the inner slope down to his naval.

Orihime curled her fingers into the hard surface of his shoulders and down lower, nails catching on small, hardened, male nipples. He hissed a string of curses, grinding his erection hard into her from underneath, making her cry out and bow back. He used it to his advantage, whipping her shirt over her head, tossing it far away.

She wanted to explore more, taste more, but it seemed he was done letting her play.

Ichigo flipped them back over in one graceful twist.

Taking her mouth in a forceful kiss, he moved against her, shoving her skirt up so that the only clothing blocking him was the thin layer of underwear. The hardness was almost painful pressing against sensitive flesh, rigid, relentless, until she was moaning at every forward thrust. Then he shifted, hands holding her hips steady, and that mouthwatering hardness found the delicate nerves at her peak and she gasped.

_She needed_… Orihime bit her lip.

The clasp to her bra ticked and then fell away—was _tugged_ away, and his lips closed over her tight nipple. Orihime couldn't hold in her sounds any longer. She arched back and moaned, long and low. When he sucked, sharp tingles flared in her breast, turned to streaks of scorching heat that shot down and erupted into pulsing, liquid fire between her legs. One hand clutched into his hair and the other grappled at his shoulder, trying to find purchase, something to hold on to so she could keep her sanity, but he kept pushing her further and further from coherent thought.

Ichigo growled against her chest and she whimpered, squirming as he rasped his tongue back and forth, sweeping and circling over her aching nipple. A hand slid up to grasp her other breast and she was lost, incapable of doing anything more than simply trying to survive what he was lavishing on her, feeling every finger pad and tongue stroke with startling precision.

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut.

She was twisting, thrashing beneath him, small nails digging into his back, and he was going to lose it if he didn't do something now.

He gripped her wrists, hauled them over her head and held her there. She arched and struggled, whimpering and still trying to reach him. The sight of her wild and struggling beneath him…

_Fuck_.

The restraint, the consuming need clawing between them now was unbearable.

Holding her wrists with one hand, he jerked the skirt down her legs, and was confronted with long, tempting, bare thighs, curving up to her hips and rounded butt.

He took deep breaths, tried to prepare as he reached up and slid the skimpy underwear down in the wake of the skirt. And he shuddered as her sex glistened in the light, pink and swollen, and he almost growled at the sight, at how ready she was for him.

Reaching up, he stroked her folds with the side of his thumb, barely brushing.

"I-Ichigo… Please!

His head jerked up and he released her arms, kissed her hard.

"Wrap your legs around me."

They felt like warm silk surrounding him, crossing behind his back.

Ichigo closed his eyes again briefly. He needed all his self-control, all his resolve to shut out his body's demand for release.

With one final breath, he pushed the head of his erection against her, feeling it slide along slickness before he pulled away again, steeling himself. She writhed, kicking before she realized that if she clamped her thighs around his waist, she had just enough leverage to bring her back into contact with his hardness. Her back arched and she moaned.

He cursed, gritting his teeth.

She was so damn delicate. She needed someone gentle.

Not a battle calloused soldier. Not a guy that couldn't remember anything soft in life. Not for a long time now. Except for her. And he'd be damned if he hurt her now.

There was a brush at her entrance and then two fingers were pushing deep inside her.

Sensitive flesh jolted at the invasion, and she gasped, biting her lip as they began to stroke, pushing in until his knuckles grazed the tender, surrounding flesh, withdrawing almost completely before pushing back in.

Her legs flexed and her inner muscles clamped down.

"_Shit_... "

"Ichigo, I need—"

"I know." He pressed a kiss to her inner knee. "Try not to fight me. I don't want to hurt you."

She nodded, attempting to concentrate on his words and not the long fingers gliding in and out of her. Then they left and Ichigo leaned forward to kiss her, long and thorough, and then she felt him back between her legs, slipping through slick folds.

Orihime felt her eyes widen. She knew he was larger than most guys, she'd heard the stories, but that wasn't what startled her.

What surprised her was the contact of hot, bare flesh.

Hadn't Keigo teased him for weeks once about how all of his girlfriends complained that no matter how safe or careful they were, he always wore protection? But he wasn't now.

Did he forget?

And… And did she care?

Ichigo gently caught her legs and used them to open her wider, and she stiffened. She'd never been so vulnerable and exposed in such a way, and Orihime would have said it'd be too embarrassing, but now, the look on his face ended any insecurity.

His eyes were narrowed, completely focused on his task, breath puffing past parted lips as his chest rose and fell, and he ground his back teeth.

Wiggling, Orihime tried to adjust to his entrance, but the strain only grew.

A wave of heat and chills washed over her even as a hot pressure began where he was nudging past resistance. He panted, muscles straining as he pressed in and the tension increased, alarming her to the point she stiffened.

Ichigo cursed and went still, eyes squeezing shut, but just like he said, he didn't hurt her.

"Goddamn tight."

"I-I'm sorry…"

He snorted, cracking an eye. "Are you kidding?"

Orihime smiled as best she could, reached up and touched him, flattening her palms against his chest before sliding them lower, nails grazing down his rippled stomach.

His back curved and he groaned, sinking deeper.

Orihime gasped at the added strain. He was too big for her. If they kept going, she would break. Tears pricked her eyes as she realized she couldn't accommodate him.

Leaning forward, he kissed her, slowly. Soft and chaste. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no, but I don't think I can—"

"Shh… You can."

He pulled back, licked his thumb and pressed it to the vibrating nerves of her sex.

Orihime cried out at the unexpected lance of pleasure, almost _too_ intense. Her body strained against it, her heart pounding so hard it rocked her body and she couldn't get a deep enough breath.

He circled it, softly rubbing, sliding slick fingers around and around, building up tight sensations, twisting and coiling as her body preparing to snap.

Then she did.

Her back curved up from the mattress, legs fastening around Ichigo, and he entered in one smooth push with a deep growl. She cried out, but not in pain. Her hips reflexively pressed back against him, making him hiss. Her body was on fire, consumed by it, breasts throbbing and heavy. Wave after wave hit her as her inner muscles clenched around him and she keened with each one.

He didn't give her time to come down from the high before he was moving, sliding out and pressing back in, and the pleasure amplified. Ichigo held her hips, tilted them up so that he could press in deep. She could feel the echoes of his spiritual pressure thundering through her blood like deep tones rumbling in her belly as groaned over her.

The pleasure-pain. The stretching burn. The exacting, incredible ecstasy of this. How had she waited? How had she stood back from him for so long, knowing instinctively, down to her soul, what being with him would mean?

She shivered at his string of curses, feeling them reverberate down to her bones.

"Fuck, Orihime."

He used his lips and teeth and tongue to tease, but it was what he was doing further down that had her hot and dizzy.

Her breathing came in short bursts, fingers flexing on his back, and she couldn't look away, trying to write this moment into her memory forever.

And then he growled, an almost desperate sound that pierced straight into her heart. Sinking down onto his forearms, Ichigo kissed her until she was kindled in to a conflagration of need, perched on the razor edge of something so fierce she couldn't name it.

Orihime kissed him back, knowing she couldn't gain control of it, but trying as best she could anyway.

He slid his arms around her back and clutched her tight, flush against his straining body, leveraging for the deepest angle, the longest strokes, the most pleasure. His thrusts were forceful and tender all at the same time, clearly reining in his strength even as he buried himself into her defenseless core again and again.

She was already so close to melting all over again. Her skin prickled, tiny dots of color bursting behind her vision, and surge after surge of sweet, fiery sensation, all building up at the place inside her Ichigo kept hitting with every deep thrust.

Back lifting, nails digging into his tense shoulders, she felt the pressure swell, tighter and heavier inside her, a wild whirlwind of heat and pleasure and dangerous feelings, circling, wrapping her tight.

Orihime opened her mouth to cry out, but choked on air instead, not able to breathe through the intense buffet of sensation. It was like being tossed in a turbulent ocean and it took her a moment to realize it was Ichigo. His riatsu flaring, violent and hot, swirling and pulling her in its wake, crashing wave after wave of pleasure straight through her core as she burst into a million shimmering fragments of light.

Ichigo didn't stop. He continued to drive into her, his rhythm becoming erratic, shorter and harder, even as her body convulsed around him and she shook and cried with the weight of it.

He buried his face into her neck, grunting from the exertion, and then he erupted with a harsh groan, the sound rumbling down into that place where he was buried and heat pulsed deep inside her. Still he didn't stop moving, he kept rocking gently into her body until exhaustion crashed over her and she relaxed, too contented to care about much of anything except the deep peace that had settled over them as they exchanged soft kisses.

At last, he sighed, slumping and going still.

"Damn."

Ichigo's heavy, warm weight pressed her into the bed, making it difficult to catch her breath, but she didn't mind, wanted to stay this way as long as possible, wanted to luxuriate in his heat and blatant masculinity, in the sensation of him still filling her.

All too soon, however, he started to roll away. She whimpered in protest as he withdrew and then flushed, having had no prior thought of making such a sound. But before she could mourn the loss of his heat too deeply, he circled her waist and pulled her with him.

Ichigo arranged them so that his head rested on the pillows and Orihime draped over him like comfy and well-sated blanket.

Just as she was beginning to drift off on a cloud of satisfaction, one she hadn't experienced in a long, long time, his chest rumbled beneath her cheek, chin digging into the crown of her head.

"Don't you dare get comfortable," he murmured. "I'm not even close to finished with you yet."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Okay, the list grows…**

0oink0oink

Aiasaka

aiko1991

aimee hime

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Aleth

Amarantha Paiva Re

Angelina Cat

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dsaav

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Fanficlover16000

farRaven

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FireCat411

FireChild24

FiyoriTakeshi

Flutter by Me Schmetterling

Fostersb – Sorry, I wanted to PM you, but it's disabled, so I'll just have to embarrass you here :) Yes! The fact that they are both so dense is one of my favorite things about them as a couple. I mean, they aren't stupid. They're both really smart, so they totally do it to themselves! Ah! I just want to pull my hair out! And then, I remember that I'm writing it, so I sit back down, _but_, yes, I agree.

foxfang27

Furi Iki

Gabz978

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gensoryuu

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Ziggygebs777

**Questions? Concerns? Comments? God forbid, flames? :D **

**Leave them below, my darlings!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Warning: Non-canon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

**Authorial Notice: Ah! This chapter was _hard_...T.T  
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()()()

Chapter Eight

Orihime yawned, turning her face into her cozy, warm, and very subtly trying to stretch pillow.

Smiling, she wiggled down deeper into the blankets, sliding her legs against Ichigo's longer ones and feeling the sheets slip across her skin with crisp contentment. Maybe, if she refused to acknowledge the sun streaming in through the windows, they could just stay in bed this way indefinitely.

Fingers threaded through her hair, a thumb stroking the base of her neck and she bit her lip to stop the moan that threatened to reveal her conscious state.

_Although_… She suspected he knew anyway.

The hand at her neck traveled down her spine, tracing slow circles, heading lower.

Orihime squeaked and bolted upright when it brushed along the cleft between the cheeks of her backside.

Ichigo chuckled, a deep, sleepy sound that she could feel under her hands. "You're such a faker."

She sniffed as a blush crept across her face.

"That was mean, Ichigo-kun…"

He smiled again and for a moment, she was awestruck.

His orange hair was a tousled mess, lids still heavy with sleep and eyes lit with amusement and something else.

"Orihime…"

She blinked. "Huh?"

"I won't complain if you don't want to cover yourself, but I sure as hell won't be responsible for what happens, either."

She tilted her head as if she didn't understand his words before looking down.

She squeaked again.

Ichigo snorted as she jerked the covers up to her neck then felt his smile slide away.

"I didn't use a condom."

She didn't meet his eyes and he frowned.

"I-I'm… protected."

"And how do you know _I'm_ safe?" He was. He'd never gone once without protection. Until now, until her. But there was no way she could know that, and if he wasn't feeling so goddam relaxed after last night, it might have sent him up the walls.

She hadn't come to the beach thinking she would sleep with _him_. Had she even considered that there were tons of guys out there that _weren't_ safe, and didn't give a damn what happened to the girls after they'd bedded them?

And wait a second… She was on what? When the hell had she decided to start that?

He had just opened his mouth when she climbed from the bed, careful to stay covered, digging in her bag before emerging with a smaller brown paper sack. There was a yellow post-it stuck to the top and he pulled it off as she climbed back onto the bed.

"'Don't be an idiot, love Tatsuki…' What's that mean?"

She dumped the bag out.

An avalanche of little packets tumbled out, various colors and sizes. He raised both brows, blinked, and then groaned before slapping a hand to his eyes.

"Orihime, they don't work unless you _use_ them."

"I know that, Ichigo-kun. This was the back-up plan. A kind of just in case. But, I did… Know about you, I mean."

He dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes back at her. "How?"

She shrugged, somewhat shy, somewhat elusive, packing the bag away.

"People talk. Asano-kun and… and some other people… I knew you always—" Orihime bit her lip.

He scowled. Keigo was the single _worst_ source of information. Then, Ichigo sighed and ran a hand over tangled orange locks, because in this case, he was right.

He fell back to the bed, catching her arms and dragging her with him, draping her back over his chest where he'd decided he liked her. Although, the combination of skin pressing the length of his body and her earlier show, had left him less than comfortable.

He huffed and ran a hand along the silky thigh settled across his waist. He was a whole hell of a lot _more_ than just 'less than comfortable'. He was already stiff and aching, just from her shift in position.

"Damn it, you make me crazy."

She stiffened at his words and he almost cursed himself for steering the conversation back _that_ way.

_No commitments..._

The irrational frustration was already crawling up his spine and he could feel the tension practically dripping from her, and fortunately, he didn't have to look far for a diversion.

Tangling a hand into her hair, he tilted her mouth to his and attempted to eat her alive.

By the time he broke it, she looked dazed and compliant, and he contemplated all the ways he could take advantage of having her both starstruck _and_ naked. But before he could act any of them out, she blinked and smiled at him in a way that was just a little too mischievous, and a whole lot too damn sexy, and wiggled.

He drew a sharp breath as her leg rubbed his erection, and let it out as she blinked up at him, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

He wasn't fooled for a second.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "You're going to have to pay for that."

She shook her head, still smiling, hair rustling over her small shoulders.

He growled and rolled them over, pinning her easily with his weight. He glared, but knew it didn't have the desired effect when she only laughed harder.

So he made her pay.

With her mouth, her body, and every breath she used to moan his name.

()()()

Ichigo grinned, flexing his back.

Tenderhearted, little Orihime could be brutal with her nails. And every stripe burned with sweet satisfaction.

She was innocent, but enthusiastic, wild even. All silky heat and writhing need under him, and he almost groaned at nothing more than the sight of her, head tilted back, breasts pushed up, legs still securely wound around his hips.

With a sigh, he rolled off her so she could catch her breath, regretful at the loss of tight, slick warmth. If it were possible to live inside a person, he could do it. Happily. Just crawl inside her veins and stay there.

_Shit_.

Now, he was getting sappy.

He needed his fucking head examined. He knew, even as it was happening, he would regret this. Hell, he might even burn for it, taking advantage of her this way, but he was still _doing_ it.

Orihime shifted beside him and sat up, this time careful to keep her chest covered.

"What time is it?"

"Does it matter?" Ichigo looked at her under the arm slung over his face, but refused to move.

She had sucked the life out of him that time. He was fucking exhausted. And nothing short of a fire was going to make him crawl out of bed.

"I'm hungry." Orihime squirmed, and he glanced up in time to see her make a face. "And sticky."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, proud he had played an important role in that. He tilted his head and watched the sheets slide down her back, revealing the soft curve of her spine, and his body stirred.

_Damn_, she was going to kill him with overstimulation.

Was that even possible?

Death from too much sex?

He studied the thin cloth sinking lower as she waited for his response to a question Ichigo hadn't even heard, and decided he definitely wanted to find out.

"Ichigo-kun?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want the first shower?"

She blinked and he smiled when her eyes wandered down to his mouth.

It seemed he wasn't the only one affected by the raging chemistry between them. Orihime fidgeted, toes grazing his leg as she sat up straighter. Even the barest brush of skin to skin contact sent jolts of electricity spiraling through his system.

He licked his lips and she jumped, eyes flying to his.

"I-I… I'm just going to…"

She backed toward the edge, but he was faster, snagging her around the waist and hauling her back on the bed and against his chest.

"Now that you mention it, I am hungry."

He kissed her neck, openmouthed, breathing deep, growling at the enticing scent of shampoo and sex, and something so sugary-sweet that could only be described as _her._

Another breath and Ichigo worked his way down, ignoring her struggles to get free.

"B-but… Ichigo-kun, if this keeps happening… we won't ever leave the b-bed."

He paused.

"This is a problem?"

She nodded, almost frantic as he found the especially sensitive spot between her shoulders and traced slow circles down her spine with his tongue.

He sighed and decided to concede defeat.

Maybe a shower and something to eat wasn't too much to ask. She _had_ earned it, after all.

()()()

He took it back. This was too much. This was way,_ way_ too much.

Orihime smoothed a soapy washcloth up one leg, careful, attentive, artfully avoiding the area he really wanted her to focus on and continuing down the back of his calf.

He wanted to curse the fucking air blue.

After a night of sex and half the morning, he should have been wrung out, done for, limp until he'd had some good sleep or at least, a meal, but no, his blood was still humming with carnal energy and an insatiable hunger for more of her.

And he wasn't fooled into thinking it was any sort of sexual prowess on his part. Not at all.

It was Orihime.

She managed to rock him down to his soul. But it had always been like that for him, though, he supposed. When it came to her, he was always left just a little off balance, just a little unsure of where he would belong in a world that didn't have her in it. Like she had snuck into his heart and rearranged something critical, and he was never quite the same as he had been before she came.

Even the first time he'd met Orihime— No.

No. No_. No._

This wasn't the time.

Not when she was perched on her knees, face poised just a bit too far to the left, humming as she performed her newest, madness-inducing task. He could mull over his self-destructive mental state later, when he was back alone in his flat. Then he could pull out their past and think about what had been, and what likely would never be. If anything right now, he should be strengthening his resolve. Bolstering his emotional defenses for when they would inevitably part.

Instead, here he was, letting her put her small, nerve-wracking, earthshattering hands wherever she damn well pleased, nearly trembling from nothing more than a few touches.

Orihime stood behind him and began to make soapy circles across his back, starting with his shoulders and working her way down. He frowned at the empty space in front of him, dead certain this would be twenty times better if he could see her. He wanted to watch her face and the stack of different expressions that were undoubtedly flashing across it.

"Isn't it my turn yet?"

She shook her head. "You had your turn this morning, Ichigo-kun. This is…" The rag paused its circles then continued. "Payback."

Payback? For mind-blowing sex?

With a sponge bath?

Only Orihime.

"And I'm just supposed to stand here and take it?"

"Uh huh."

"You're counting an awful lot on my complacency."

Orihime smiled, he could _feel_ it as she paused again to measure him. "But you will."

"I will, huh? What makes you think so?"

The next touch wasn't the rag. It was bare skin. Soft, full breasts pressed into his back as she reached around to run the cloth down his chest, and he almost choked, the full expanse of his back and legs tingling.

Among other things.

She stretched up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear.

"Women's intuition."

Heat lashed under his skin. "Why you little…"

Ichigo turned, intent on trapping her, but she danced out of his reach, covering her breasts with the rag and he was torn between ripping it away and staring. He settled for gaping like an idiot as his mouth went slack, his scattered wits making the decision for him.

Damn, she caught on fast.

Orihime made an unbelievably provocative image. Arms clutched her chest, covering what she could, leaning away as her eyes sparkled with challenge and delight. Her mouth was smiling, but parted, panting in what he guessed was excitement, as wet hair hung over her shoulders and down her curves, plastered to her slick body.

Ichigo swallowed, waiting on his faculties to return so that he could catch the little tease and fuck her brains out. He followed the water spilling down her body in small streams, and wondered how she would counter being taken hard and fast.

Orihime gasped and thrust a hand out when he took a step forward. "W-wait!"

He ground his teeth, obedient, although it took more than he wanted to admit.

"I haven't finished my turn…"

"You've done more than enough."

She wet her lips, backing a little farther. "But… But I didn't get to…"

Orihime trailed off, blushing, and his brow knit with the effort to hear her.

When he was finally able to interpret her stammered mumbles and vague gestures toward his now completely awake member, he blinked.

His heart forgot to beat then started again, double-time.

He wanted to groan at the thought of her mouth on him again as she pleaded with her eyes. And he _really_ needed to touch her.

Catching her wrist, he pulled her into his chest and covered her mouth, kissing deep, grunting when her fingers found the hard surface of his stomach. With that, she slipped from his hold, down, leaving him mystified, and his arms empty. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she had been doing it forever or just waiting for the chance— was _excited_ about it.

She leaned forward, glancing up, licking the hard length of his shaft and freezing his vocal chords in his throat when he would have said something that really, _really_ didn't matter anyway.

The stroke of her tongue sent a lightning bolt of ecstasy shuddering up his spine and out along every nerve ending.

_Fucking hell…_

He felt it in his goddamn _fingertips_.

Ichigo was surprised he didn't erupt from that alone after the teasing she'd given him, but it was a good thing, because then, he would have missed the way she closed her mouth over the head, sucking as she slowly pulled back.

"S-Shit!"

His hips jerked and his breath left his lungs, and if she did that again, any strong words or threats of retaliation he might have would dissolve into whimpers and the pathetic pleas of a desperate man.

Bracing her frame with one hand on his leg, she looked up and he groaned.

With a hum, she released him, returning her attention lower, grasping his flesh with hesitant fingers to hold it steady as she tasted the tip with the flat of her tongue, from just under the head until she was running back down the top. He was panting by the time she began brushing feather light kisses down the length, almost pushing him past the limits of his endurance before taking him back in her mouth.

He hissed.

Her mouth was hot, her tongue soft, and the gentle sucking urged him toward madness.

She didn't do something as ordinary and crude as give head.

Orihime made love with her mouth. Gave everything she had.

And he fucking shook.

Gasping, suffocating, Ichigo held himself up with one palm flat against the wall, toes digging down and muscles locking, while the other found the back of her head to aid her movements. Not that she wasn't doing fine on her own. Any better and she'd have him on his fucking knees… begging, pleading, ready to say anything, do anything, promise her anything.

It was a rocky slope, and he was entirely too close to utter stupidity as it was.

His head threatened to fall back against the tile behind him, but he kept his eyes on her mouth where it took in his pulsing shaft. He wasn't going to miss a second, not an instant, wanting to commit it to memory. No doubt to drag it out and torture himself with later.

"Orihime…" His voice ground out, and he was trying his best not to hurt her by clutching her dripping, auburn strands too tightly or by forcing her farther down on him than she could comfortably handle. "I'm close."

She looked up, eyes wide and he could have sworn he saw either heaven or hell shining back, but he was so far gone he couldn't even tell them apart anymore. Then she smiled and time ground to a halt. She might as well have reached out and grasped his heart in her tiny fist with that smile.

She was in his arms the next second as he heaved her from the floor and crushed her mouth under his. Goddamn it, she was like a fucking sickness, a virus that slipped through his veins and ate him alive, and there was no doubt in his mind that he had a terminal case.

He plucked her out of the shower in a few faltering, hazardous movements and braced her against the counter. She yelped at the sudden cold surface under her backside, but he was in her the next moment and she bowed back, cried out, as he moved, taking what her body promised, sinking as deeply as he could, over and over, shocked at how much it felt like breaking, over and over.

()()()

"Ichigo-kun…"

He smiled. He'd been smiling almost nonstop since she'd had her little payback in the shower. He couldn't recall ever feeling quite so… at ease.

"Stop that, Ichigo-kun."

"Stop what?"

"You're…" Her toes wiggled into the sand. "You're staring at me. It makes me feel…" She wrinkled her nose. "Nervous."

He grinned. "You were going to say 'naked'."

She flushed, vivid enough to be made out even in the bright sun, turning away and he chuckled. He liked staring at her. He liked teasing her. He liked loving her. And doing all three at the same time?

When was the last time he had felt like being playful? With anyone?

The suggestion to go down to the beach had seemed like a sacrifice at the time, but seeing her back in that skimpy, tight, white two-piece, he was glad he'd caved, glad that they'd found somewhere more private, and even more glad no one was around to notice his irrepressible hard on.

Stepping up behind her, Ichigo leaned down to speak lowly. "I make you feel naked, when I watch you. Isn't that right?"

Another smile ghosted over his lips, because he _knew_ he had her. Orihime shivered, licked her lips without turning, on high alert and trying not to look like it.

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't. What happened to that women's intuition?"

Ichigo brushed a hand over her right breast, barely grazing an already erect nipple.

She squeaked, jumping and turned, surveying the landscape to make sure they were still alone.

"I think it's time for a little payback."

Eyes widening, she twirled to face him, pulling out of reach. "Here…?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's… it's a public beach!"

He gestured around, motioning toward the empty parking lot up the shore.

"I don't see any pub—" Turning back, he found Orihime already fleeing down the beach, putting distance between them and eating up sand.

Ichigo chuckled, letting the image of her running in practically _nothing_ sink in, grinning before taking off after her. Ready to make the most of the weekend.

()()()

Orihime knew letting Ichigo talk her back into the shower was dangerous, but after his unexpected retaliation at the beach, she had sand everywhere and… and he could be _persuasive_… Very persuasive, because their adventures hadn't ended in the shower.

After feeding her, he had pounced again. Something he was entirely too skilled at in her opinion. The situation kept spinning further out of control, but she couldn't bring herself to put a stop to it.

Didn't _want_ to put a stop to it.

Ichigo ground into her, crushing her down into the bed. She pressed her hands flat against his strong chest, feeling his heart beating under her palms, hard and fast. As fast as hers.

And just beyond that, something dark, shifting and flaring.

Orihime keened, whimpering into his kiss, legs twining around him even as he ate at her and rocked into the sensitive nerves of her core. His tongue was elusive, playing with hers. It stroked along her teeth and it seemed so natural to bite down in her pleasure-induced frenzy.

He inhaled, taking a sharp breath then groaned, his body tightening around her, forming a cage, pulling back to reveal eyes that were almost luminescent with predatory light.

She couldn't look away as he panted and fought for restraint.

So many years she'd dreamed of being with him, so many years she'd thought it would never come, and now that it had, she was frightened. But not frightened of him, not frightened of the savageness looking back at her.

She was frightened of it ending.

Shuddering, he bent his head down and she felt the flutter of soft hair tickling her collarbone as he tried to recover himself. Then, he laughed. The low sound of his chuckle rumbled through her chest to flutter around deep in her belly.

"I wasn't expecting that."

He nipped her in return, lightly scoring his teeth over the sensitive skin of her shoulder and a low, uncontrollable moan of desire shook her throat.

She wanted to put her hands on the back of his head and hold him there forever, but he kept her trapped and secure. So she arched into his mouth instead, struggling to get closer, every cell of her body focused on those few square inches.

He traveled over the rounded curves of her breasts, moving lower, hair teasing her neck. She wanted to taste him too, wanted to run her hands and mouth over every part of his body. But he was still holding her too tight.

She moved to free herself and his hands tensed.

He pulled his mouth away from her skin. His gaze was dark, dangerous.

"Don't."

He leaned in, huffed a breath across her throat then tested fragile skin with his teeth, groaned.

"Don't fight me right now."

The words were strong, but she could hear it in the gravely tone of his voice, that even the smallest thing would snap already tentative control.

Orihime nodded, awed when he grinned, light flashing in his eyes.

His mouth came down on hers and he growled again, lips hot and hard and hungry.

Then without warning, Ichigo released her, freeing strong hands to stroke over her hair, the tops of her shoulders, the backs of her arms, her ribs and stomach and breasts then down over her hips, curving around to grasp her backside, making her gasp with fierce, instant, swirling need.

It felt as if all the blood in her body circulated between her legs. She throbbed, ached, burned.

She didn't understand the need scraping between them, how it twisted into a force so powerful it couldn't be denied, she only knew that she needed more.

Her blood screamed it. Over and over.

Orihime writhed, trying to contact his hardness, trying to extinguish the raging fire burning her alive.

Didn't he know? Didn't he know she felt as if she were choking on need?

"Ichigo, please..." She gasped, arched, _hurt_. "_Please_…"

Ichigo sank into her so quickly she bowed back, warring with the sudden sensation of being filled so full and so deeply it seemed as if he were lodged into her belly. Her cry echoed out a second later, delayed by her mind's inability to process such intense feelings and emotions. Then it hit her, all at once and she peaked so hard she couldn't stop the sobs that escaped, couldn't stop from bowing back.

She twisted, chasing the fierce sensations, pressing her breasts hard against his chest, nipples dragging, rasping and causing her womb to clench tighter. Her hands searched over his back, legs clamping around his waist, her body beyond her control as it basked in carnal lust with wave after wave crashing over her, sweeping her out and away from coherent reasoning.

Ichigo cursed, hissed, fighting not to just pound into her, no matter how much he wanted it as her body squeezed him until he thought he might die from the pleasure of it.

But it was a losing battle.

He groaned, gave in and did exactly what she wanted— he fucked her harder. He drove her slender body down into the mattress, making sure he was fully submerged at the end of each stroke, driving with as much strength as he possibly could without hurting her. The intensity of arousal sent almost agonizing tingles deep into his stomach, but he refused to come, refused to end this, refused to let go.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where he still had brain function, he knew he was being way too rough with her, taking her too many times, too fast, too hard, but he couldn't seem to stop.

He wouldn't be able to stop until he collapsed.

He had to kiss her, had to be inside her in every possible way.

"Ichi…Ichi-go… I can't."

He groaned. "You can. One more."

He kissed her without stopping or slowing, almost begging.

"Fuck, _please.._. Just give me one more."

She panted, gasping every time he slammed into her. "I can't. It's… It's too much."

It wasn't. It would never be too much. Never be enough.

He flipped onto her stomach and her hands gripped the sheets, crying out as he drove into her from behind, her body pressing back and still silently begging for more despite her uncertain words.

He snaked an arm around her waist to hold her steady against the intensity of his movements, the other hand slipping around to find the bundle of nerves above her sex, fingers sliding down gathering slickness before tracing quick, jerky circles.

He groaned, almost too far gone to realize his teeth were digging into the curve of her spine until her body shuddered beneath his and tightened.

She was there, just at the brink.

Anything would push her over.

It took all his will to pull out, to leave her heat for even an instant, but he did.

He twisted her as she whimpered, begged for him, and Ichigo shuddered even as he lifted her onto his lap, spreading her thighs, groaning as he pushed back in, driving her down onto hard, unyielding flesh.

Ichigo pressed in, relentless until he was completely immersed deep into slippery fire. There was nothing like the feel of her, and he couldn't stop from jerking his hips to try and force himself just a bit deeper. He growled, gripping her small waist, lifting her up before sliding her back down as she cried out, nails scraping down his back, urging him harder, faster, deeper.

He gasped, head pressed into the curve of her breasts, moving inside her, wrapping his arms around her frame, thrusting up and pulling her down in the same movement, building them both higher and higher, until she cried out again and again, and he couldn't hold back.

Orihime shuddered, clenching, bearing down on his invading hardness. Her muscles closed around him, hot, wet, and pulsing.

Ichigo hissed, groaned.

It was as if a fist reached into his gut, twisted into his heart and jerked his release out through the swollen head of his shaft with vicious brutality. Ichigo buried himself until he could feel the curve of her backside cradled between his thighs.

With his last tatter of sanity, he caught her face between his palms as gently as he could in this state, forcing her to look into his eyes, wanting to see her come apart. He could see the storm rage in her as her muscles constricted, pulsing over and over, their bodies crushed together tight as the pleasure was wrung out, bit by excruciating bit and he poured his release deep inside her.

Orihime panted, eyes dark, lips red and swollen, and a single tear slipped free as he lowered her mouth to his and kissed her slowly.

()()()

Orihime stepped through the doors onto the deck and stretched, basking in the sunshine before spotting Ichigo.

Stepping over to his chair, she smiled softly when she realized he was asleep.

He was sprawled over a deckchair in nothing more than a pair of dark shorts that rode low on his hips, and he was so perfect that tears stung her eyes and her throat closed.

It would be so tempting to just let him keep protecting her. She was terrible for even contemplating such a thing. She knew she was. But how could she do it? How would she be strong enough to push him away?

Shaking her head, she smiled again, wiping her eyes. It was a fleeting temptation, and it didn't matter anyway. Classes started again tomorrow, and there were precious few hours of the weekend left before they headed back toward campus. She had just finished packing.

Orihime watched Ichigo sleep for another moment before a wicked idea arose.

Stepping toward the railing, she picked up his drink and turned, holding it over his chest, waiting for the icy condensation to fall.

"Don't even think about it, Orihime."

She started and jerked it back, glancing down to see his eyes still closed. "H-How did you know?"

"Light sleeper. Be glad I stopped you, paybacks are hell." He smiled. "Apparently."

Orihime took a deep breath, setting the glass down before lowering to the other chair. "We leave in a few hours, when are you going to pay me back?"

Ichigo went still, finally opening his eyes to study her before he shrugged, deliberately nonchalant.

She knew it was, because his gaze had burned.

"If I tell you, how can I take you by surprise?"

This was dangerous ground.

Orihime shifted in her chair, unnerved by his quiet response. She had never been a fan of dangerous ground, she usually avoided it at all costs.

He watched her and she took a deep breath.

Now was the time. She needed to break things off. To tell him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to be allowed to protect her this time. That this… this— _thing_ they were doing— wasn't going to continue.

Even if she wished it could.

"I…" She looked at him and immediately dropped her eyes, deciding it would be easier if she didn't. Orihime licked her lips. "Ichigo-kun, our friendship is very… special to me. I don't want anything—" _No_, that wasn't what she was trying to _say_. "I don't want _this weekend_ to ruin that."

Ichigo regarded at her, eyes piercing, searching.

She wished he'd say something, maybe give a clue that he understood where this was going. He had been so open about everything else…

He snorted and she blinked.

"Ichigo-kun?"

"Nothing. It's just usually me saying things like that though, isn't it?" He shoved a hand through his hair, slumping back into his seat. "You cutting me off, Inoue?"

He smiled, but it was sharp enough to draw blood.

He was angry with her.

Guilt stabbed at her and she went quiet. She knew he would be upset though, she knew this would be difficult before she started.

"I just… Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"A good idea? I think it's a _great_ idea. Fucking fantastic."

"Ichigo-kun… You know what I mean. It's not worth it."

He went still again.

And she wished she could just say what she was thinking. That she was afraid he would regret it, regret making another sacrifice just to protect her. Could she live with herself if she saw that in his eyes?

She didn't know.

But what she did know, was that a relationship that never started, couldn't end. More importantly though, it couldn't end _badly_.

For once, she couldn't read his expression. Not at all. The doors were firmly shut, not giving her any clue of his thoughts one way or the other.

"P-Physically… it was…" She flinched away again. His eyes felt too intense. Too demanding. He was going to make her say it. "The… The s-sex was… it… I liked it."

"But you're done now. You don't want more?"

Her heart pounded hard, thoughts swirling, making her dizzy, with anxiety and nerves. Orihime swallowed, lightheaded. And _so close_ to letting him have his way.

"M-Maybe…" She glanced up, swallowed. "Yes."

"Well, we agree on that, anyway."

She shivered. "But that doesn't mean we should. It's not so bad, is it? We can just make a clean break. It'll be like it never happened. We can stay friends."

"Never happened?"

"We don't have to tell anyone. And we can both still see other people."

Ichigo came out of his chair so fast it nearly fell over. There was no problem reading his expression now, and Orihime faltered, no longer certain she'd used the best approach.

Standing, she swallowed.

Ichigo stalked her. "And how I feel doesn't matter? Is that what you're telling me?"

She reeled back, wanting to run from the heat in his eyes.

"I… I understand, but—"

"You don't."

He turned away, shoving a hand into his hair, and when he came back, an almost frantic urgency lit his face that she hadn't seen before. Like he was desperately trying to hold onto something that was slipping between his fingers.

"I don't want a fling, Orihime. I can't just be your friend. Not anymore. I can't just sit back and pretend I don't fucking love you."

He— She felt sick, dizzy. The world blurred, tears springing up so quickly that she realized they must have been on the verge for some time.

"If that's a joke, it's not funny."

He shook his head and she could feel his heat radiating around her. Close. Offering comfort. She blinked and as the tears fell, he came into focus. All she had to do was give in… give in and they wouldn't have to fight.

He wouldn't have to _lie_.

She knew Ichigo would do anything for a friend, but this?

"It's not a joke. I have for a long time... When you were captured, I didn't know what to do. All I could think of was that I had to get you back—"

"S-Stop it."

"What?"

"I said stop it! That isn't going to work. I don't believe you." She drew an uneven breath, biting her lip to stop its trembling. Half afraid to ask, Orihime said, "What do you want from me?"

"What do mean? I just told you. _You_. Happy ever after. The whole fucking deal, Orihime. Everything."

He caught her arms when she would have stumbled back, when she would have turned and ran, pulling her close.

No. She wasn't listening. He couldn't possibly know what he was saying or what it was doing to her. There was a way out of this. _Had_ to be. She just had to _think_. "T-There are other girls. Lots of girls that want to date you—"

"I'm not talking about other girls. I'm talking about this. Us."

"I…"

"What do you want? Do you want me to apologize? I can do that. I'll do it every fucking day, if that's what you need."

"N-No."

He released her so fast she nearly fell over. He ran a hand over his face, turning away.

He walked to the railing. After a long minute, he spoke. "It's all or nothing for me, Orihime. You decide."

She couldn't move, even her tears stopped, waiting, wondering if she had heard him wrong.

That was it? No other choices? No other options?

Obey or leave?

She couldn't breathe and he didn't turn to face her.

Orihime looked down at her bare feet then walked to the house, retrieving her sandals from inside the door.

He turned from the railing then, watching her as she slipped them on.

When they were on, she bent low, bowing until her hair brushed the ground.

"Thank you for this weekend, Kurosaki-san."

()()()

Ichigo was frozen as the wind whipped over him, picking his hair up and then dropping it back over his forehead as he watched Orihime walk away.

Son of a bitch, what the hell just happened?

Had she seriously just thanked him for fucking her?

And then left…?

.

.

.

**A/N**

**The End.**

**.  
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**Lol. Kidding! It's not over. You should have seen your faces. :D**

**Okay, I've been informed that my thank you list makes the chapter length appear misleading. :) But I **_**like**_** my thank you list, so to make up for it, this is a double chapter and my list is now in new and improved horizontal form. Yay! **

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**Once again, if I left you off, it 'tis but an accident. Inform me immediately. :D **

**Just one more chapter. Hope you've enjoyed it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Most Dangerous Things**

**Warning: Non-canon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

Chapter Nine

It was the mother of all fuckups.

Five days later, Ichigo paced his flat, stared down from his balcony, and saw nothing. Fucking jack shit, and it was pissing him right the hell off.

She walked out on him. After he'd spent the weekend fucking her until they couldn't move, she had all but run from him. And what the hell had he done?

Stood there.

Like the fucking fool he was, he just stood on the damn deck and watched her go, anger rising inside him as fast and hard as the lust had that gotten him into this fucking disaster in the first place.

She hadn't even let him drive her back.

She'd called a cab.

She'd called a fucking cab other than sit in the same vehicle with him for less than an hour.

And he was going fucking insane.

There was a pounding on his door and he recognized it instantly, rolling his eyes as he jerked it open.

"You _slept_ with her! Just what the hell's your problem, Ichigo?" Tatsuki brushed by him. "I mean, I always knew there was something wrong with you, but this!" She whirled, throwing up her hands before jabbing one his direction. "I defended you!"

He pushed the door closed with a sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. He had expected this, and honestly, he had expected it a hell of a lot sooner.

"And how is Ishida?"

"Don't change the subject. You know he's fucking pissed at you."

Big shock there. He usually was.

Ishida could get almost as protective of Orihime as Tatsuki. Which was normally something he liked about the guy.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

What had he been thinking? He rubbed his head. He didn't have any idea. He'd just jumped in testosterone first and clearly let something other than his brain do the reasoning.

"Look. I know, I fucked up, okay—"

"Gee, Ichigo, do you think?" He started when her temporary calm evaporated and she threw her arms up with a half shriek, half yell. A hand twisted into his shirt, jerking him down to her level. "She _loves_ you, you idiot!"

She snarled it with so much venom, it took a moment to process. When it did, his eyes widened and he thought his heart would jackhammer through his chest with that one staggering declaration. Then reason kicked in and his brows drew down.

"I think you've got your wires crossed. _She_ dumped _me_. Not the other way—"

"Shut up! God! How stupid are you? She loves you. I _know_ she loves you, because she has since—I don't know— _forever_, alright?" She growled, releasing his shirt with a sneer as though she had only just realized she was touching something foul. "Only your head is so far up your ass, you don't even get it…"

_What the hell? _

Orihime? The same Orihime that ran other than share a damn car? In love with him?

Bullshit.

"Don't fuck around with me, Tatsuki. I'm not in the mood."

"You're not in the mood? _You_ aren't in the mood?" She almost spit the words into his face. "I just stayed up _another_ night listening to her cry herself to sleep, bastard." She stabbed another finger into his chest, punctuating with vicious jabs. "_You_ don't fuck with _me_. Got it?"

He searched her eyes, glancing between them as though he expected them to tattle on each other.

They didn't. There was nothing but cold, hard truth.

He blinked and something coiled in his stomach, and then with a tickle like warm champagne, it blossomed.

"In love?" He stared at her, still half waiting for the punch line.

She snorted.

"With _me_?"

Tatsuki nodded, one sharp jerk of her dark head.

His legs felt strange, as if someone had replaced his knees with sponges. He swallowed.

"But she said…" His gaze refocused on her face as incredulity crept up to replace shock. "She lied to me."

"Surprise, surprise."

His face fell into a scowl and he glared. "I get it, Tatsuki. I'm an idiot. No one's arguing."

"Good. Although, to be honest, I was kind of hoping you _would_." She grinned, flashing teeth and smacking a fist into her palm. "Now, go fix it, stupid. If I have to come back here, there will be blood. Got it?"

She again punctuated her sentence by poking him in the chest with that damn pointy finger. He grunted, but didn't say anything as she walked back out, slamming his door, coming and going like a slender, spiky-haired tornado. Damn her.

And what the hell made her wait so fucking long to convey such critical information?

Goddamn it. Goddamn this fucking situation and goddamn _him_.

Time he did something about it too.

Ichigo walked back to his patio, looked out and over toward the apartment balcony that echoed his. She was in there. He could feel her, the soft shifts as she moved around.

So she wanted to avoid him, huh? Well, that was about to change.

He knew he was asking for trouble, he knew he wasn't rational. But that didn't keep him from stalking out the door, two levels down, and planting himself in front of Orihime and Tatsuki's small apartment. He didn't have a clue what he was going to say, but that wasn't stopping him. He'd always been damned good at improvising.

He pounded on the door.

His arms crossed over his chest as she eased it open and peeked out at him warily.

"What is it, Ichigo-kun?"

She didn't seem very happy to see him.

Too damned bad.

He caught the edge of the door with one hand, and pushed his way in between her and the frame, turning back to look down at her astonished, and somewhat nervous face.

She was wearing another of those damned, long-sleeved, over-sized sweaters that hid every bit of skin from his view.

God, he hated those bastards.

He gave her an exhaustive once over from under his lashes, knowing from the deep blushing how much it flustered her. "Get dressed. We're going out."

"We… are?"

She crossed her own arms under her chest, squared her shoulders, and glared back— Well, if that could be called a glare in any sense of the word.

Damn. She was going to be feisty. And that made the blood race under his skin.

After five days, he felt like a goddamn heroin addict without a fix. He couldn't sleep, couldn't think straight, even when he forced himself to eat, it was tasteless. Hell, it didn't really matter that he couldn't see an ounce of supple, silky-soft skin, wouldn't have mattered if she were trussed up in a burlap sack.

That defiance made him fucking _hard_.

"…And where are we going?"

"The grocery store first. Then that café on campus."

God, he was a nutcase. Fucking certifiable and getting closer to that padded room with every uttered breath.

Her eyes blinked back at him, uncertain. "The grocery store?"``

Ichigo bent his head until they were nose to nose.

"Those bastards that hit on you at that damn store are going to learn who you're with. Starting today. And since when the hell did a grocery store become a singles' fucking meeting place?"

She stared then looked away, over her shoulder, letting long, loose curls tumble down.

He narrowed his eyes at the profile of her auburn head before stalking up behind her.

Dammit. She really was driving him crazy.

She jumped, tried to pull away from him, but he wasn't letting go until he was ready. Which he was pretty damn certain was _never again_. He'd made that mistake enough times. And not letting her go, wrapping his arms around and holding her firmly to his chest, his erection brushing against those tormenting curves, was pushing him further from reason.

Orihime closed her eyes, shaking from the effort it took not to relax into the hard frame that radiated so much strength and soothing heat.

He was the danger here. She _knew_ that. So how was it that she felt more secure now than she had in days?

Five days.

How was she supposed to stand this? She thought she could survive. That she would be okay with time. But she wasn't. She was miserable. She ached. She woke up at night looking for him, tormented, hot, crying and frustrated. And he wasn't there.

At least, not _with_ her.

In the past, his heavy spiritual pressure had comforted her like a warm blanket. One she was more than happy to wrap around her as she fell asleep. Now, it tormented her. Refused to let her forget that he was there, just a few floors and wooden barriers away in his own bed.

The hold around her tightened.

She was almost panting. He wasn't even doing anything and she could feel moisture gathering between her legs, the throbbing ache.

Orihime tightened her thighs, realizing far too late that her head had fallen back to his shoulder.

_What was wrong with her?_

"It doesn't go away, you know." She jolted at the sound of his voice, as though he could read her mind. "That need. I've spent a long time trying to get away from it. Nothing helps."

She stared at the ceiling, and its single brand-new light fixture. The same one that she and Tatsuki had petitioned for months to have replaced. One visit from Ichigo to the RA's office and it had been fixed the same day.

Was there anything she didn't need him for?

What was the point in fighting? He would win and they both knew it. Both _wanted_ it.

A hand rubbed across her ribs, sliding up to grasp her breast and she whimpered, writhed against him. With painstaking precision, he traced her small, hardened nipple through her clothing.

Orihime gasped, her body straining.

She was supposed to fight this? She couldn't even think straight. Not with these feelings tearing through her mind and fusing her body to his. Her composure was shattering and she couldn't bring herself to care. There was nothing more crucial than the feel of his hands tying her nerves into knots.

Ichigo turned her around, his hand curved beneath her hair along the back of her neck, holding her in place while his lips covered hers.

He groaned, breaking free to lift her on to the small center island, pushing between her thighs as he pulled the neck of her sweater away from her shoulder, along with the strap of her bra and turned his mouth to her skin, using his teeth, his tongue and his hands.

His palms dug into the skin of her shoulder blades, forcing her harder against his mouth.

Orihime moaned, barely resisting the urge to sink her fingers into strands of orange hair and pull him tighter.

Finally releasing her, he growled. "Damn, I missed you."

Her breath caught.

The things he did to her. The ways he touched her, made her heart pound and her brain stall. It was unlike anything she had told herself it could be. It was potent, addictive. He was the dizzying height of every imagined encounter she'd ever had. And she needed to _stop_ this. Had to be _firm_.

"You really do make me crazy, you know." He pulled back, drew the sleeve of her shirt back into place over a fresh mark and stared down at her, his gaze sensual, drowsy. "Now, get dressed."

She stared back at him in dazed confusion, his words failing to register straightaway.

She licked her lips, voice barely audible. "I am dressed."

"Jeans or something." His hand slid under her skirt, testing the swell of her backside and she jumped, gasping when he grasped a soft, fleshy curve. "You wear a skirt and I'll end up fucking you before we get there. Go on, I'll wait."

Orihime blinked, nose wrinkling at the command in his tone.

Frowning, she crossed her arms. "You're being bossy, Ichigo-kun."

"Yeah?" He smiled. "I'm fucking hard, too, so watch out or you might get more of a lesson in fucking me than you're ready for, right now."

She shifted, but didn't move and his eyes narrowed, amber highlights glinting.

"Why, Ichigo-kun? What does it matter if we go to the store? Or to the school? How does it change anything other than everyone in Karakura knowing what happened between us? "

He nodded decisively.

"You're getting the picture. My town, my school, my woman." He liked the sound of that enough to grin. "And that's doing it the easy way. We could do it the hard way. I could just follow you the next time you go to the store and start knocking their damned heads together every time I catch those bastards sniffing after you. I'd have fun with that, but I'm betting you wouldn't."

Her eyes widened.

"You..." She was going to say he wouldn't, but she knew very well that he _would_. So instead it came out, "You couldn't follow me all of the time."

He lowered his head and met her gaze straight on. "Try me."

She heart slammed in her chest. He was too close. Close enough that she could lean forward and kiss him if she chose. His mouth was set, lips tight, but soft looking, fixed into a hard expression. But she could remember them doing other things.

Naughty things...

With frustrated noise in her throat, Orihime shook her head and re-crossed her arms, and then her legs for good measure, cheeks burning and puffing in irritation. It wasn't fair that he could twist her this way. That she could be taken in so easily.

She took a deep breath and looked away, or tried to anyway. She couldn't resist peeking from the corner of her eye.

"You're being very autocratic, Ichigo-kun."

"Yeah? I was thinking of making it my major. Now get dressed. You have five seconds to get your ass moving before I start undressing." He lowered dark lashes, flicking his gaze over her from her crossed legs to her arms under her chest. "And tomorrow I start knocking heads together."

He was serious.

He almost looked like he would rather she didn't go.

Orihime stared at him, mouth open, amazed, perhaps a little frightened, and a whole lot fascinated, but she did hurry to comply. Making to slip off the counter, she shivered when he didn't move, and tried not to rub all the way down the entire length of his body.

"We…" Her throat was dry and she had to swallow before trying again. "We're going to have to… to d-discuss your habit of you ordering me around," she told him, backing out of the kitchen.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Five."

Orihime gasped.

"Four."

"That's not fair..."

"Three."

Her eyes widened.

"Two."

He lowered his arms, hand dropping to his belt, and his sweet, little princess turned tail and ran.

He smiled at the sound of her door thumping closed.

By morning, she and everyone else in this damned town would know exactly how things were going to be from now on.

()()()

They were being followed.

He huffed, adjusting his hold on Orihime and picking up the pace.

Ichigo felt his brow twitch in annoyance, zeroing in on the less than subtle presences behind them.

Rukia. No big revelation there, she was perpetually butting into his personal space and always had. Tatsuki. He'd have been shocked if she hadn't been following them. Chad, Ichigo was willing to forgive since it was rare enough. Renji, the poor bastard was very securely under Rukia's heel and almost chained to her shadow these days.

His brows drew down.

But Ishida? What the hell?

And… _Goddamn it_. They weren't just being followed. They were _surrounded_.

A spikey head here. A bald one there. Strawberry-blonde curls and way too much cleavage.

He frowned.

There was Mizuiro and C_hizuru, and a handful of others, shinigami and otherwise. He would have even sworn he saw a pale blonde, very __irritating__ vizard hovering above them, but when he looked, he was gone._

_No real surprise that_ only Keigo was stupid enough to approach, and that was remedied quickly enough.

The impact with the concrete sounded painful, but he didn't bother to look as the store came into view, and he marched by— and ignored— a sleek, black cat licking her paws and watching them with keen golden eyes.

He pushed through the doors, Orihime trailing behind him.

"K-Kurosaki-kun? Wasn't that— what are we—"

"This should do it."

He turned so fast she nearly slammed into his chest. Then his hands were on her, one behind her head, the other snagging her around the waist, hauling her into flush contact as his mouth took hers. Hard. Sudden. _Final_.

In an instant, everything fell away but his kiss. It was hungry, like a darkly powerful aphrodisiac.

He drove his tongue into her mouth, ruthless as he sucked her breath into his body. She gasped, then moaned as pleasure wrapped around her, surfacing from deep down in her belly.

His hands were rough, unyielding as they pressed into the small of her back and held her head.

All space between them was eliminated in his full-on assault of her mouth and body. He kissed her thoroughly, bent over her, dragging his tongue over hers with harsh strokes until she moaned and whimpered against it.

Then it was over.

Ichigo yanked his mouth from hers and looked over her shoulder.

He dragged in harsh breaths, glaring at the store-clerk that ambled over and watching as the man scurried off again.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

When he acted this way, when that light was in his eyes, she was almost frightened of him. He looked menacing and possessive. A shiver coursed its way along her spine, short lived because he latched on to her arm again and dragged her right back from the store.

"Ah! Kuro—"

"And that's another thing. You keep calling me Kurosaki." He stormed through the doors, pointedly ignoring the cluster of meddling eavesdroppers that dived out of the way, scrambling to hide. "I thought we were over that."

"Y-yes… I don't mean to… but I… I like calling you K-Kurosaki-kun..."

He paused.

Truth was, he liked it too. But it sent mixed signals. He didn't want any guy to wonder if she was his. He wanted them to know it. And girls too. She wasn't the only one off the market.

Ichigo sighed. He'd let that one pass. For now.

He paused for the light and led her across the street when it changed, cutting through pedestrians that swerved to avoid a collision, unnerved or exasperated. Didn't matter. They got the hell out of the way and that was good enough for him.

It only took ten minutes of walking to make it back to campus and four more to march through the athletic field, players looking up as they passed, then by the main hall and into the small café the majority of the student body frequented.

"Ichigo-kun, I don't understand, why are we—"

He turned and gave her arm a tug, letting her fall into him before crushing his mouth back to hers.

The den of noise around them dried up, going quiet.

_Good._

He gripped her thigh, hoisted her up to a convenient table and ignored the stuttered protests as the table's current occupants moved aside.

_Even better. _

He could hear their spectators whispering around them. …What's going on, is it a prank? I don't know, but isn't that Inoue? And Kurosaki? What are they doing? Exactly what it looks like, I guess… Maybe it's a dare. I didn't know they were together…

With one last lick, he released her bottom lip, plucking her from the table and steadying her when she wobbled. Then he threaded their fingers together and began again.

"I-Ichigo-kun! How many times are we going to do this?"

He shrugged, debating on what direction to take as a red-haired man was jerked behind a bush, screaming out a quickly silenced objection.

"Don't know."

She blinked as he settled on course and she was pulled in his wake.

He kissed her once again on the main lawn in front of the library bustling with students picking up textbooks. And again as they passed through the commons, dragging her behind an alcove and performing a much more in-depth job. Although, she suspected that one was for his personal benefit since he hadn't bothered to make a scene.

Overall, his kisses had left her so muddled and dumbfounded, that by the time she was stumbling into his apartment, she didn't have much of an idea how they had gotten there.

Orihime turned to see Ichigo shut the door, gaze fixed, starting toward her before he tensed at the series of small crashes on the other side. Fists clenching, he growled and spun back around, wrenching it back open.

"What the fuck is going on out here? This isn't a spectator sport anymore. _Get the hell out_."

Ichigo slammed the door and heaved a sigh, but didn't turn. He smoothed a hand over his forehead then dropped it back to his side.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you loved me, Orihime?"

"W-what…?"

She forgot how to breathe. If he had thrown ice water at her instead, she wouldn't have been as shocked.

Ichigo turned and the only sound in the room was the ticking of his wall clock.

He stared at her for a long second. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Orihime closed her eyes, biting her lip.

How did he know? Had someone told him? She had often wondered who would be the first person to tell the truth. Her or one of their friends. It should have been her. She should have worked up the courage a long time ago, but she hadn't.

It was possible he'd figured things out on his own though... And was that better or worse than someone else letting her secret slip?

She swallowed.

The answer was straight forward enough, and she'd had a long time to think about it.

"You would have felt obligated… I didn't want to be your responsibility. I'm tired of being a responsibility. You. Tatsuki-chan. Uryu-kun and Sado-kun. Sora-nii. Everyone's always had to look after me, and I don't want that." Orihime wrapped her arms around herself and swallowed again. "I can take care of myself now."

It was harder than she thought to face him after saying those things. But when she tried to turn away, he caught her before she had taken more than a half dozen steps and pulled her back, searching her with sharp eyes.

"When you—" He pushed a hand through his hair, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You lied to me. You said you didn't want love."

"I said I wasn't looking for love, Ichigo-kun. I… I already found it… a long time ago. I just didn't want to burden you with it. Just being near you, being able to know you and be your friend. That was enough for me."

"And what about for me? Did it never occur to you that maybe I felt the same way?"

Ichigo waited for her response.

_She loved him... _

She loved him and she kept it from him. Tatsuki kept it from him and apparently everyone else as well.

Why?

He watched her lower lip tremble, eyes shining and doubtful.

He should be mad. He should have been fucking _pissed_ at her.

He wasn't.

Reaching out a hand, he tugged a strand of long hair, hard enough that she squeaked, her reverie broken.

"O-Ouch..."

"Then stop making a face. I said I loved you, Orihime. If you cry now, I'll feel like shit." He scowled. "Anyways, since when did you decide to tell me what I do and don't feel?"

"I-I didn't mean—"

"Good."

She took a deep breath and licked her lips, staring at him as if she'd never just sat and looked. Then without warning, her lips trembled and she smiled, her eyes filling as she fought tears, trying to will them back before he saw.

He shook his head, taking the hem of his shirt to brush them away.

"Things are going to be different now, you know. And Tatsuki's going to be pissed." Ichigo nearly grinned at the thought.

Orihime's smile faltered and she tilted her head.

"What…? Why?"

"Well, for one, she's going to have to find a new roommate."

Her eyes widened, lips parting.

And just in case she had it on her mind to say no, he covered them with his.

Then she was back in his arms.

He lifted her, clutching Orihime tighter to his chest as he deepened the kiss.

He couldn't help it. It had just been too fucking long.

He carried her to his bed. The bed he had never shared with anyone else, a bed he hardly ever let anyone else so much as _touch_. A bed that would only know her.

It felt like an eternity to Orihime since they had been close this way, with the mattress cushioning them as he laid her back.

She shivered as he undressed, piece by piece, watching, fascinated, until he did the same for her. Ichigo's movements were quick, but without the desperation that had marked their previous encounters. Now, there was no race against time, and no urgency beyond the simple need to be closer.

"Put your legs around me."

Orihime obeyed, reaching up for him as he settled over her and he went willingly into her arms, closing his eyes as she wrapped around him, skin to skin.

His moves were gentler than before as he pushed in to her. Drawn-out.

Ichigo worked her smoothly, taking his time, feeling every bit of contact, the soft suction, the flexing of her muscles surrounding him as he moved slow and deliberate. So much fucking feeling he felt blinded by it. Felt as though he'd never have enough, could never take her enough to satisfy the hunger for her.

He buried his face in silken hair, felt her legs lock around his back as he rocked in time to the pulse fluttering in her neck. Because _this_, the feverish desperation to touch and be touched, the soul-shaking sense of belonging, just… _her_. It was enough to fight for, to die for.

Fuck. He loved her so _damned_ much.

His arms tightened around her as he felt her tense, her body slickening, easing his way as he began to move faster. Harder. He needed her. Needed more and more. Needed to feel her gripping him tighter, her body getting hotter, and then she cried out his name. And _that_ more than any fleeting pleasure, filled him with elation.

He pushed deeper, stealing her breath. Her arms clutching at him as desire turned to something bright and sharp.

His groans covered her gasps, and when ecstasy exploded between them, she felt the sweet, blistering fire of it. Sweat-dampened and sated, they collapsed in each other's arms.

Ichigo groaned, touching his forehead to hers, staring down at her. "I do love you, Orihime."

She stilled, blinked. "I… I love you, too."

He smiled, kissed her softly before pulling her over him, settling her back into place and tucking her head under his chin. "Don't leave me again. Do you hear me?"

Orihime swallowed and nodded.

Satisfied, he dragged the comforter over them.

"Damn. Maybe I can fucking sleep now." He sighed. "It kept me awake, missing you."

Orihime hadn't slept, either, but she slept now, deep and dreamless. Held in his arms, where he protected her. Even from herself.

.

.

.

**.**

_Fin._

**A/N**

**Seriously, this time. :) **

**So very sorry about this chapter, btw. I can't do fluff. I just **_**can't…**_** I tried so hard. Ah! But I hope you enjoyed the story anyways. I know I had a lot of fun writing it. And thanks to everyone that reviewed and fav'd and watched. You have my eternal and undying love! :D**

**Oh! And if you ever venture over to Deviant Art, visit me at the IchiHime group BlackMoonWhiteSun! I'm going to be getting some art contests going (hopefully) and I love chatting, even if I'm awful at timely responses. Ha ha ha… Okay. **

**Feel free to tell me what you thought of this by leaving a review! And I'll be starting a new loooong fic soon. A vamp fic, believe it or not :) But after I fulfill all of my other promises and obligations. **_**So question.**_** Are there any characters you would like to see? This would help me a great deal since I can't seem to settle on them. **

**Thanks again for reading!**

**❤Ash**


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